


Sunlit Youth

by Moonpeach



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Character Study, Dissociation, Emotional/Psychological Trauma, Gen, M/M, Mentions of others-Freeform, Other, Panic Attacks, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Shiro is lost and Keith has to carry that title one way or another, Slow Build, They pushed through it in the end, Worldbuilding, other warnings will be added as the story progresses, struggling with loss, struggling with nightmares and a team that won't work, takes place a little ways after the events of season 1
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-01
Updated: 2016-10-04
Packaged: 2018-07-28 15:31:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 24,004
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7646734
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Moonpeach/pseuds/Moonpeach
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Shiro didn't pick him for no reason, but he still has his doubts. </p><p>Overbearing awful silly little doubts that stick to him like hangnails on his thoughts. He can manage well enough with Red. Because with her, it was easy, they maintain well enough together without fault of trust, will, or strength.</p><p>Red is the color of his being, his valor, his talent, his will to carry on wherein nothing else matters. </p><p>Red is easy to handle, Black on the other hand is not.<br/>Which is why Keith doesn’t really understand why Shiro entrusted him to do this.</p><p>"Give me five good reasons you trust us with our future..."</p><p> <br/>[ an extended Keith character study]</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Show me warmth

Abrasive nature be it his worst enemy; unconceivable and the terrain’s an unbalanced plain. 

He’s walked and ran and stumbled across a mighty way; somewhere between a terrain of sand and harsher rays of light from a star above. He can’t for the life of him move at a fast enough pace. 

Not in this heat, not in all this sand. It’s blinding; not like Earth’s sun, and the humming of telecoms so broken and without range harms his ears more than the unconscious sounds of heavy hearted breathing. 

Ships as high as the the skies width, hiding in secret and swarming the areas with a fist of iron and emulsifiers spray the ground at his feet. when he thinks he’s dodged them enough times to know there’s a pattern in their attack, it changes, a feral dance of caution by which he’s hit across one arm a couple of times before stumbling again over dusts of sand.

If he had the lion, then he might’ve stood up a more bigger chance, he might’ve flown himself away in time, neck and neck with Shiro if he had the nerve to just come out right and find him.

But they didn’t have time, and in the short span of minutes, the Galra had rolled in. Almost undetected; unseen at first. the waves of dry soil and winded sand merges between him and safety when he sees up ahead the brighter eyes of his lion. 

Keith is cursing every and each wit of his mind, body and state at this point. if not for the ground keeping him off balanced, for the the mistake of never catching on sooner. He's scattered this plain for a for month or so believed, Time at all is lost to him at this point, reaching Red in minutes before another blast; heavy hands pressed over a scorched muzzle. 

Red hums lightly over the course of him getting a hit from his helmet making contact with the side. He’s as avoiding of the attacks as he is worried over thoughts of where Shiro is, and what’s happening, and where and how and what can be done to get them out of here in time. Another blow from a towering ship overheard lands too close; he bangs his hand against Red for response. 

“Come on, we got to get out of here.”

She takes heed, silent but bearing awareness when the maw opens up and Keith nearly fall over getting inside in time. The comms and center dock openly await his arrival, wasting no time getting to the seat. 

One shot fired, then two, he’s not waiting for them throttle him down without so much as a bite back, a way to gain the upper hand even if Red isn’t fully conscious. They pull back with his hand pulling the controls, making way of the blasts sailing over head from above. 

In a situation like this ,Shiro with that voice of reason, would have said to take out what you can limit yourself to, before finding an opening and retreat. The enemies here are far too exceeded of obstacles for just Keith’s one lion. 

Observation surveyed about a total of 20 at best. maybe more if they’re up ahead but he isn’t so sure. Red communicates low when they shift out and add fire to the ships onslaught beyond them. 

If they weren’t so damaged, he might’ve charged in without restraint, without wit or patience to drive with a strategy in mind. If he wasn’t in such a hurry, he might’ve driven the fight out into the skies and blown these ships to hell.  
But he doesn’t, there’s not enough time and not enough power, and for wherever Shiro may be, he’s has no time to rationally think out a plan. 

It’s all firing at will, dodges and maneuvers till he’s out of the way of most fire. It’s not nearly enough but trying to maintain enough durability even under limited power is stiflingly hard. Managing as well as he can gets him almost knocked back a couple of times just from the sheer grit of the lasers 

The best of what he can do, is fly back, sustain with keeping the bayard tuck deep, while he baits time. It’s all that he’s got for a plan, better than nothing at the very least and tries with fury in his strife. 

The attacks don’t last long, he’s evaded enough to get a short distance away before Red crashes. Power so far is but a thread of spare usage. Keith will have it in the palm of his hands the second he feels it churning and then like a match wetted away from flame- it’s gone. He doesn’t understand it, but he knows somewhere deep down that it’s some fault on his part. 

The way his fingers catch over the piloting shifts, the way his eyes pinpoint all the movements over a cracked screen, the way his ears haven’t shut off the static white noise of a broken comm link in his helmet it’s all for time, and he’s trying the best that he can even at such a damaged feat.

When they do crash, it’s harsh and buttons him down with an impact that would have him sailing backwards against his seat if he wasn’t already prepared. Teeth gritted over a busted lip when he reels with a steady eye on top of a Galran ship in front of him. 

At some point in time the visions of the screen blurs; a nervous noise escaping him as they plunder over; catching sand, the blight of that shot sending a weak wave of sickness over him. 

Red is powered down, weak, not as responsive as they used to be. Or as valiant and ample in emotion. He can feel the cold silence crawl as an roach over his mind; a bit of instinct out of his right arm repeatedly pressures the bayard further and further in. Nothing happens, Keith curses under his breath. 

Whatever came next, he didn’t have the the quick reflex to look out for, the skies a bolded battleground, soldiers tear to the sand before, weapons in hands that look harmful and here Keith lies with his lion half helpless to do much to defend either lives from onslaught. 

The end feels nigh, but he’d be damned before he’d let them so much as touch Red. Even when pressing on for an answer from her, it’s a grab of luck at nothing, being out in the open makes it easy for the enemy to strike down while in a busy frantic for a hum in her wake, anything to know she’s not down for the count. Come on Red… Come on…

Something withers over the comm, barely unreadable and less heard. Keith thinks it’s the voice of the lion calling but wanes that option out when the click of activation and the familiar hum hangs mute. 

Eyes survey the area surrounding him, deciding whether the basic defense from his bayard alone could cover the ground of soldiers approaching near before hearing the sound again. 

It’s not so much clearer as before, but it’s definitely a voice; one he can recognize with a full acknowledgement to the large blast just a quarter mile away from where he sits. 

The figure is large, black with authority written within the lines of it’s face, a waves of other ships follow under the blight of it’s victor soaring in and over the mounds of the sand and ashen waste of the enemy.

It doesn’t take much for Keith to see who it is, scooting himself up from his chair as a weight pressures a wail of metal to creak in protest above him. 

There’s another message he can’t quite hear very well. somewhere along the lines of “got you” and "hang tight”, reveling a half hearted sigh out like a heft of baggage hangs loose off his shoulders. 

Despite the tension and the spirit of air making waves across the sides of his lion’s body as they leave, he’s indefinitely grateful for Shiro’s baited arrival in the nick of time. 

On the off hand that he thinks he could’ve done something about the situation himself, on the other thanking Shiro for tackling the predicament instead. They steady off without so much as a reply. 

Keith has tried but the comms don’t seem to be working all that well, not a sound or a filter of his voice can be projected out but he can get the messages in disjointed and muddled with ease. That’s got to be a problem, but not one he’s has any real basis of fixing at the moment.

They get away, they fend off what they can, and then Shiro’s putting him down on a mounted area, sustained and not quite as soft as the mounds of sand they once perched from miles away from the scorches of Galran tyranny and destruction. 

Some ships have followed in their path; and Shiro’s already gone. The Black lion a mist of illusion in the sky's pale grey. Keith doesn’t even have time to react and like a flash , the ships follow in the lion’s path.

This is stupid, it’s careless, what happened with this is stupid, he can’t maneuver Red out of the danger zone better enough than he can stumble about this open desert. 

It makes him wish he wasn’t so careless with Red before then, after the fight where she was left winded and broken upon a platted ship’s edge. It’s not fair,but there’s not much he can do about it. Pulling his bayard out in a close fist. 

There’s another blast from far beyond. Keith thinks it’s a stray ship, but his eyes cover the red of wings coming closer. Engaging impact sends him pulling back into his chair when the fallout of the black lion rams itself into his with a skirt of ash and dust and sand raining over their bodies; pelted with the marks of lasers. Something sounds off in Keith’s ear, he curses. 

The weight of Black whines and pulses with a static of glitch about it’s known base, Judgement says it’s probably been hit too hard from something Keith can’t see 

He wants to call out to Shiro, ask him what’s going, scream into the comm until he gets a response anything. And so his hand instinctively goes for that ignition, pushing his bayard in again and again for good measure. 

It’s another five tries before the weight on Red recedes and he hears the hum of the comms ring awake with white noise. The voice is familiar, soft and full of urgency when it plots through his head, making Keith take a double look around the area. 

Black looks immobile in it’s state, quiet, docile from the space it takes away from Red. Keith wants Shiro to say something else, left him know everything’s okay, an instruction, a giveaway hint, anything works and he almost suggests the thought of prompting out of his lion just to do it but stops himself there. 

That’s too dangerous, and given the situation they’re both in-reckless. The voice comes again, and Black moves. It’s stance stagnant and unruly, not as smooth as it glides across the skies or as wielded with grace. it nudges with sparks lacerating waves over it’s plated skin. Keith can see the shadows of something big float up in clouds behind it.

In seconds, they’re on the ground and then they’re not, Black has Red in maw, tearing from the floor as they move toward the star up ahead. whatever’s following them looks to be giant, a glow of amber penetrates the bruising air of rust as they flee.

The ships of over head have seen them go, chasing after like flies to a light and Keith wonders just how many of them have followed them here. How many knew of their location or how long ago it took them to find the lions.

He wonders about the others, wonders if the same circumstance is happening now, if battles are being fought like this without the gain of others to help behind. 

Getting far off isn’t so much the problem as it is for the behemoth jutting not off far behind, it’s ray of light acting as a beacon of awareness when it spies the retreat. As well as Keith can see, there’s not much to make out save for the undulate sickness churning in his gut. 

Sirens unify a tocsin , a shaky fettered cry and suddenly without fair reaction there’s a boost of a pulse jutting them a loose from the jaws of Black, flying backwards. 

Shiro’s been hit from behind by a booming blast that takes up the radius of most of what can be seen from Keith’s screen as he falls. Wide eyes break awake to the scene in action, unable to do much but look on and bit his lips as the impact sends them in the arms of barren earth below. Keith wants to scream, Shiro can’t be alright. 

there’s a noise floating about his comm link once again, and he ignores it. Closing his eyes and hoping to some extent of his being and will wherever they are that Red responses and responses now because he can’t take much more of this anymore. This idleness; he’s got to give, he has to be involved, he’s got to put in some of the effort of at least helping out balance the cause; at the very least just activate for once. Show a sign.

But nothing is happening, and he’s settling faith with facts as the crash and burn drowns his thoughts out. Shiro and the Black lion are unseen from here, but the behemoth towers like a mountain. Keith’s not sure what the make of it is truly, but if it’s with the rest of the scouring ships sailing above it’s safe to assume the Galra have been busy with experiments. 

It comes forward, footing swamped by the covering sands, undeterred. It cracks the surface, a thundering of weight collides with the berth between itself and Red, Keith can feel it with every step. With it’s form approaching west wing, so does the dreading alarm in Keith’s gut. 

The point in asking for Red again comes up, but he say nothing as the bayard in hand proves fruitless again and again and again. It’s all useless, Red is useless. He wants to bang his head against something and wilt.

Threat edges on and accepting faith is the worst thing he can bother to acknowledge at the moment, fearing abysmal options and scanning for a sign, a form of something good, a lion of iron….

the comm lights up, static refrains the message but he knows the voice as clear as day. Keith sways from clouded deference, forcing an answer out, even as he’s sure they can’t really hear him. 

The behemoth outside has stopped a few distance away, wide arms spanning out, the fingers of it remind Keith of an alien he’s once seen over a millennia ago some time before all of this. Watching it charge what appeared to be a beam in it’s palms sends up red flags.

“ Can you hear me? Keith, I repeat, can you hear me?” 

The voice is frantic, fighting against a conjunction of noise and whirring interference. He struggles something out, albeit wary of his voice not getting through enough, that beam outside is growing at enormous rates. 

Where is Shiro?

“ Keith, I can’t—seem to get a good read on you, but if you can hear us- then please get yourself out of there if you can! we’re on our way!”

Easier said than done he thinks, and it makes him wanna laugh at the absurdity of it. Surveying around him the areas of where he’s fallen have him believing in options that might suffice his life on his own. Maybe getting out in time and leading on foot, but that would leave Red behind and taking that risk wasn’t a chance he’d want to go through with. 

Red is the warmth, the valor, the sun at it’s highest peak, They’ve shared a connection, a point of matter between themselves that Keith thinks he has figured out pretty well despite the warnings. They’ve been through enough on their own, and on such limited power, she’s still kicked through.

Keith can’t understand it now why nothing works. He can’t even hear her over the whirring torrents of the beast outside their radar. Not over the constant words over on the comm, or his heavy breathing, or his finger twitching over the bayard several times in unease. 

He can’t hear over the noise of ships fluctuating in and out of his visor range, the noise of lasers, and cannons and pelted rains of the sand taking hit after hit where he lies. Over the array of temperamental motions of each blast sending him reeling and unable to move his arms over instinct in return of reacting on sight.

He can't hear over his own thoughts, his own mind racing at the sign of death as it comes unwarranted and exceeding. Another shot goes to the air, he closes his eyes. 

When he thinks he’s been hit, when he thinks worst is over and there’s nothing but white and bright lights and stars to look upon, he feels nothing. Hands have grasped too tight to the controls, almost afraid to pull, look up, open eyes. He refrains from it, before feeling a shift in movement prepare him to peel his head away from the sight of a coming blast and more to the familiar face giving him a look through a fizzled out screen.

White hair matted to the forehead, a smile and careful eyes carry with Keith a one last glance of certainty. His mouth is drawn to words like a whisper, sparing alert to the name. 

“ Shiro---! ” 

It’s the most of what he can get out, before Keith is flown out of the way, thrown to the air with himself fastening backwards. Hands asserting away from their original stations catch the plate of glass they’ve fallen to, looking on as the black lion stand a proud martyr in the place where Red once lied.

The blast catches them instead, and Keith feels his mouth go dry, almost shouting . Red’s immobile state swivels through the air to catch through a shade of light, too blinding and too quick to squint out it’s exact probable identity. He doesn’t even have time to look back starting at the waning space where Shiro once stood. 

Burning

Suffocating

Then lucid

Then bright lights.

Keith’s head is pounding by the end of it, recoiling front as his head collides with the control panel, all noises set aside for dwindling consciousness.

Shiro is but a blur of Black and red 

somewhere, somewhere.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sunlit Youth


	2. Black Spot

Coming home should be as rewarding and full of relief as anything else Keith has ever felt in his life. A month away from people, away from the castle, away from some clarity and stability can leave a mark on a lot of issues he’s had boarded up in his head. 

They’ve sat in weeks of placebo, a problem he thinks is just his overactive dissidence taking baby steps over the pouring emotions hitting on those waves of anxiety. Weak knees, heavy heart, heavy chest. He hasn’t left Red behind since the comeback. 

He doesn’t want to think about the ends and the means and the hows of everything. Or the problem of his lion’s unnerving silence or the pouring in his heart over the fear to breathe empty. It’s all the more confusing to think about with the added bonus of a concussion taken from no safety on the seat he once sat in during a passing war. 

It’s been dark for days. Maybe nobody has bothered to come get him or they just forgot and maybe it’s because he’s not actually home and this is all just some empty hell he’s somehow ended up in. Wormhole logic. But it seems like the silence and the obscurity of his surroundings bides his body with a bed of secrecy.

A place to hide feelings of mistrust, bombarded effects of unease, solicitude crashing through the atmosphere of placidity. He sees nightmares around every which way and corner. A figment of soldiers in arms, the behemoth, a disfigured black lion and then Keith screams.

Screams as loud as his lungs can carry for, dry; untethered and deserving. He can feel his hands collide with something hard and gripping onto the edge of a panel. If the eyes weren’t so full of tears, he might’ve taken notice of the shape. The patterns of communicators; a discarded hemet, the controls left a wreck. Red’s interior haven’t changed in a day, more like a year as that’s what it feels like being a bundle of something rotten in this cage. 

Remembering the aftermath is like watching snapshots through a war veteran’s eyes. The battle; Galran ships coming in drones. He remembers Red’s helpless state, his comms a static mess. 

He remembers not getting away in time, avoiding shots; the behemoth’s rage. He remembers Shiro and then he breaks down. Collapse the silence through choking sobs; knuckles bleeding white over the base of a docking screen. 

_Shiro is gone..isn’t he?_

Eventually something does come to get him, he doesn’t see what it is and can’t process anything but the sparing blight of his sorrow, his pain. The fettered waste of his being and soul torn apart for a month and a half away from real contact. 

He thinks about the darkness coming to swallow him up, he thinks about Shiro; the last picture of a face still bright and full of warmth and then it all goes dark; he can’t see him anymore. In real honesty, he’s hoping all this black engulfs him whole. 

 

When he comes to, he’s surrounded by many faces, one so thin and one distraught. They look uneasy and scared for some reason. A hand reaches for his shoulder and he pulls back. Ready to take out a weapon if the threat brings itself anymore closer.

There’s something odd about the way they’re communicating; baseless, familiar, frantic. And then he hears the name “Hunk" and a swoop of arms collects him in from behind. Feet and body leave a ground, he feels like suffocating; hoping that whatever it is holding him reacts negative and crushes the whole of his chest instinctively. 

The name and voices that follow are coming back to him gradual. He takes time to look about the area, the grey walls with pulsating blue, the padded floor and familiar clothes. The scattered faces of people he’s starting to recognize as the vision clears away the rest of his cloudy consciousness. 

The women in authority asks the one holding him up to put him down, he’s just been few moment’s awake. He’s set down, and she approaches, however cautious. 

“ Keith are you alright…?”

And then he remembers.

 

—————————————————————---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

They all have a respective meeting somewhere in the central control dock area where Allura once stood manifesting wormholes for the ship’s travels. Seeing this place after what felt like only a month- more like a year to Keith is unsettling somehow, yet comforting knowing that he’s in a familiar place once again. 

The reunion is bittersweet, everyone’s happy to see one another but everyone’s still as cracked and on edge as the rest. The only one who appeared to be the most happiest home is Hunk, who started crying the moment he made it back; tears and over joyous nature.

Lance is unusually quiet for someone who chatters his feelings into reality and marks his tongue a battleground for complaints and enthusiastic gabbles. He’s off to the side unseen by Keith, who has to stretch his neck out into order to just get a good look at him. He can note the unease in their voice, something trembling with thought,but still can’t make an expression out to know what’s really going on with him. 

Pidge seems exasperated; they talk and makes odd faces like something in the room smells afoot. Seemingly being the only one actually saying much about anything that had happened to them besides Hunk, who chimes in whenever he can. 

Allura seems calm, a little too stagnant in opinion; stress hidden by a smile. She must have been searching for ages Keith thinks and suddenly he feels bad for almost forgetting the mission, for forging through it on instinct when taking on a Galran tyrant. It makes his knuckles bruise together, head bending silent. Yeah he should be sorry about that. 

“ I know, you all have been away for while, and I’m sure you all are shaken up quite a lot.” She starts, interrupting a piece between Pidge and Hunk’s banter of wild adventures outside the month separated.

“ And I’m glad to see that you are all okay, but we have to attend to more pressing matters…”

The smile on her face seems weak, Keith doesn’t distrust it's something bordering along the lines of Shiro who’s missing from the lot. They meet eyes and he straightens up, burying an empty breath intake. He wonders if she knows, he wonders if they’ve assumed it. 

“ Yeah besides our little field trips through empty space and wildly unique planets, I’m sure there's more to stock up on our plates now.”  
Pidge’s nose scrunches up, withdrawing her eyes to the floor, Allura gives her a small look , seemingly announcing it with a slow nod. 

“ Unfortunately so. The Galra have amplified themselves and their army up since our departure across the galaxies. Looking for you all has caused immense drawbacks on a lot of our initial plan of action. “

Somewhere in it all Keith swallows, in hindsight, he wants to berate a little bit of himself for a lot of things. Even here its becoming more abundant the more lamentable the news becomes. Everyone else in the room doesn’t really seem all that surprised but they’re not happy about it either. 

Nobody blames anyone for anything. 

“ And with that in mind, we still have one of you missing, which means we still must search before we retaliate towards anything else.”

That gets someone’s attention, Hunk is sitting up. “ Yeah I was actually about to say something on that. I noticed that Shiro was kinda absent when everybody else woke up and came to, where is he?”

Pidge follows suit, “ Yeah, is he still out there somewhere? Did you figure out a location for him?”

Allura seems to struggle with the answer. Keith already knows it, but he’s not sure Allura knows it herself. The whereabouts of where he and Shiro roamed are distant, vast; a sea of sand and desolating flatlands. They remind him of home, of the abandoned shack he used to keep time in. The memory is dim; too fatigued with static at this point; he’d rather not see it again. Or at least try not remember it too much. 

“ I’m afraid we haven’t just yet..”

Coran jumps in at the right time, alerting everyone of his presence when he walks in. An odd tone in his voice which makes Keith suspicious of telling answers. He squints half wishing he could switch the subject, and another half of him doesn't want to continue this conversation entirely.This isn’t getting them anywhere. 

“ We thought we had a lock on all of you there when we came to get ya, but it seems his location might’ve jumped right before we got around to grabbing both him and Keith. Seeing as how, they ended up in similar locations.”

A few looks plot their way to Keith’s end, he feels like fending them off with his head receding into the inside of his jacket collar. But simply stays where he is and inputs the rest. “ The Galra came and gave us the jump, we didn’t have a lot of time…” 

The disingenuous sea of small frowns and fear collects, Keith wishes the outcome of that sentence weren’t the way it was told, but he can’t lie about it. Shiro’s life is more at stake here than anything else; and here they are standing around and talking about it as if that’s going to get shit done. As if that’s going to make anyone’s situation better. 

They are wasting time. 

“ If that’s the case, then that it's more than likely that they have the black lion in their mitts as well. 

Allura seems the most troubled, lips meet with a flat line; subdued authoritative nature springs back as she stares. 

“ We can’t just let them fall back over to Zarkon’s hands. We’re going to need to take it back as soon as possible once we’ve marked their designated location on the map.”

That’s a start, and the meeting becomes more brief as it closes, but Coran seems troubled, he hasn’t said much on the plan of action. Albeit his opinion of it strongly suits that of Hunk’s who thinks the same of handling Galrans so soon only after a day of being back. But they can’t wait long, without the main piece, Voltron is just a loose puzzle; an incomplete weapon. They can’t do much without Shiro. 

 

“ Yes and while that’s a plan to be taken care of, I believe we also have another pressing matter to attend to on behalf of your lions….”

 

Keith is the first to tense up, feeling an eye on him but he doesn’t look; attention springs like fireflies, the team’s questionable looks paint the atmosphere well. 

“ Our lions…?”

“ Yes your lions. Now I know it’s been a while since we’ve all last seen each other, but while you all rested up along side each other in healing pods, I took the liberty of doing a little maintenance on the all your lions just to be sure they’re weren’t too scratched up from wherever it was that you all landed. 

He informs, continuing as a strain of thought follows the scrunch of his brows.  
“ I can’t say that I’m not surprised in the lot of you having certain things about them being well damaged, but it’s not too hefty of a problem if maintenance can fix it on time. However one of your lions is severely incapacitated…”

 

“ What?” Allura mouths the words with a tone of stunned incredulity. As did some of the others in the room who followed her example with similar reactions. 

“ I’m afraid so.. it’s pretty bad from what I’ve seen—

“ Incapacitated how?” Allura reiterates, Keith bites his lip, pulling back against the wall.

“ I mean incapacitated as in it’s severely damaged. Possibly even more damaged than anything like the others. Judging from the looks of it specifically, it’s probably going to be a long time before we can even get it to be functional again. Assuming maintenance can handle the load…

“ What?! but that’s… that’s terrible! None of the lions should be severely damaged! It’ll add to the drawbacks of things we already have to deal with!”

"I know princess but I think we should be sit on it for a little bit until the matter is handled. "

“ But we don’t have time!!”

"I’m aware Allura but-“

“Whose Lion?” It’s a quiet address, from the boy in blue sitting a little ways up in his seat. Lance’s tone is just about the same tired drawl Keith can’t hear under the drum of ventilations atop them. But he recognizes the question with patronizing manner. It seems to stop the two older aliens front side in the heat of argument.

“ The Red Lion. The Red Lion is the one that appears to be out of commission.”

Keith can feel the heat on him, the room hitches a cold sweat; a break of tension pouring in, he feels sick. It doesn’t take much to notice that all eyes have dragged their way to him in the instance the words leave Coran’s mouth. It’s pretty obvious how much worst he feels on behalf of knowing it’s his fault Red is out of commission; and her downfall is but the biggest hole in the belt of reckless mistakes he’s made thus far. 

He closes his eyes, somewhere under baited breath he swears he hears an “of course” drop from lances’s mouth and something else like a fearful ramble of words escaped both other paladins from the other side of the room. He wants to drown everybody out , drown the room out, drown himself out. Because he doesn’t want to have to go through another lecture of “how reckless he was” Or how “ he could’ve handled things better.” 

At the time, in the heat of battle he followed instincts, it was what he thought was right. It was a “whatever I can do, whatever I can” situation produced on the theory that he could succeed where most had failed. It was a close end, and maybe he had overestimated the power of the Tyrant too much to delude himself of a fitting victory. He could have died, Red could have been taken, but he just couldn’t have that. He messed up then, he won’t deny it. 

No one is blaming anyone for anything but himself.

The people in this room don’t seem to have a clue of what to do next. One lion and it’s paladin missing is enough of a problem by itself, but another in critical condition and unable to activate and work with the rest of the pack?—- Sound the fucking alarms ,we have a code red dilemma. 

 

They don’t know what to do, Allura is exasperated, pining a glance with Keith, but his attention hasn’t moved from the patterns on the wall to the glass of outer space ahead of them. He doesn’t know want to think, and maybe thinking isn’t really the best thing to be doing for himself after just a remarkably narrow recovery home. 

 

They sit on it for a couple of hours, everyone still as tired, still burned out from jumping wormholes and fleeting universes. Being alone for a month must have struck a nerve with the personalities of his team. They don’t seem as the same as they were before. Which makes Keith seems normal in conjunction to feeling somewhat better about his current state of mind.

They force themselves into routine hours; anything to get the stress off their minds. Allura encourages this but it doesn’t matter. 

They tried to eat at normal times, try to rest up, try to distract each other with chats and smiles and little jokey quips in between just to drag back the normalcy that was so rightfully taken away from them a month ago. But it doesn’t matter. 

It doesn’t matter for Keith, because none of that is working.

You can’t expect things to come back altogether, not after that, and not after the trauma of nightmares that follows Keith in a path of guilt. He shares condolences to the troubles of others, let’s them talk out their problems; but beyond that he is silent. 

A steady diet of trust issues has told him that he is none the wisest when to comes to acknowledging mistakes. Though he tries to, even when others have told him different. Shiro's lost and his existence springs a cold reverence for the obscurity of the future. Red’s prolonging gaze is a nimbose of a plan failed miserably. He wants to say sorry. 

For the Team.  
For Shiro.  
For Red.  
For himself. 

Nobody blames anyone for anything but Keith.

—————————————————————---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
Coran says it’ll be a while before Red is even ready to be functional.

The first words out are indeed a bite of stern authority over Keith when he speaks to him directly. Red’s comms and further body length is a scorching mess of loose ends, battle scars, and a stupid reckless decision. Keith hates having to look at her like that. 

Coran is trying his best not to seem reprehensible of Keith’s mistake, tried in the way he phrases every sentence with delicate advisement like a lenient parent trying to run around the edges of scolding their child. Keith understands it either way. Says he’s sorry either way, and then moves on. 

Without Red, they have only one functional arm.

Without Black, they don’t have a head. 

Without either, they can’t form Voltron.

That’s a problem, a big problem and everybody knows it, but nobody wants pressure the blame on a person or a thing or an anything at all without wasting breath on excuses.

They know the reason why Red is in critical condition, yet when given the opportunity to confront, they don’t. 

Keith doesn’t know what’s worst about the entire absence of the team’s opinion- the fact that they won’t say anything or the fact that he wonders they do want to but don’t wanna leave themselves feeling anymore exhausted with the work left behind to pile up on them later. 

Either way, he feels a loose in a black spot. Sickly ill; spotty, and unsure of what to do with himself now that he has practically nothing to enter battle with. 

Assuming he's to be involved in battle at all anymore, he flexes his fingers, taking refuge in his room; Spare a peace of mind there for a week and a half.

 

—————————————————————---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

In the search for Shiro, Keith trains.  
He trains and trains and trains some more, it’s all he can do, all that he can manage. 

If he’s not training or doing anything productive, he’s avoiding others.  
Barely comes for dinner or makes peace and late reunions with the others paladins he hasn’t seen in a while. 

He doesn’t care about much, doesn’t about himself to feed or sleep.  
All that matters is getting better, getting out of a rut and moving on with motivation.

It’s the one thing Keith can do to get himself preoccupied, keep his mind on the better focus and not on someone who’s probably gone and probably somewhere else..

 _Shiro is gone isn’t he?_  
No. Shiro is missing that’s it. Point blank. period.

Night for them comes, and he’s less than prepared to sleep, closeted to the bed side. He thinks about the emptiness of Shiro’s room, the way the future will roll about their journey. He thinks about Red and her sorry state, about Zarkon and the waves of sand on a spacious desert plain. He thinks about home and eyes part a chance to close.  
Somewhere somehow, he’s gonna regret the most of it, wishing he were home far away; oblivious. Maybe it’s happier that way or maybe it’s just wishful thinking.

He can’t say he knows it any better anymore.

_Nobody can blame anyone for anything._

Keith should learn to remember that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That if it comes to claim  
> I won't run.


	3. Aimless

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This was a journey.

Two weeks go by, and they have nothing.  
No leads, no directions, not a trace. It makes things seem bleaker than they actually are and nobody really knows what to do with this kinda atmosphere clouding the ship’s and its inhabitant’s minds. 

Red is nearly out of her rut, but there’s still time for improvements, a way to make her work more efficiently. Pidge offers the help, as much as she can with upgrades and protection the likes of which Coran is even impressed and Keith sits out, like he always has-have- and will do for time that comes by in polaroid record. 

Allura busies with searching the galaxies and far ends of the worlds they’ve dwell for, lived on for a sign of Shiro, a sign of black, but comes close to nothing. She gripes with resourcing general areas, pay a close mind to the Galran movement.

Even if they give her nothing, she still tries and Keith can’t acknowledged that enough. 

Hunk tries to better everyone’s spirits with keeping the peace and tension to a minimum, he aids the lot with smiles and a glow of laughter, like the worlds around them aren’t crumbling to their feet, like there’s nothing to worry about, and it helps just a little bit. 

Even with the food that smells like home, even with the comfort he brings to all in open arms, the work is not enough to succumb the unease everyone feels. Everyone’s got a lot on their plates. 

Keith can’t say he’s never been in a place this quiet, the air’s a tune of bleak visions, an abounding pit of shadows carries the guilt with a wordless grip, every night it only just gets worst. 

Sometimes it’s harder to stay awake at night over the fear, wherever it spills from, and his mind lingers on it for more than hours at a time. Sometimes it starts off soft, starts off slow, his body binds in the covers for a sheet of safety till the worst fears rear their ugly head and then he’s screaming for release. 

It’s a battle between reality, a spiral of a crushing dissociation and breakdowns that leave hands gripping the sheets and a shaking body sliding out of bed to the side, catching breathes. 

Tonight he’s no more than greeted by duo expressions of various concern. The presence of two in his room gather him in arms where he sits in the lap of Hunk , soothing words and a careful press of hands near the sides of his back. Lance has a hand over the whites of Keith’s knuckles, not saying much but keeping a close eye to their face, however much Keith cares to conceal it. 

They stay like that for the rest of the night, till morning.  
Nobody says a word about it, and it’s left alone. 

—————————————————————------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

Shiro’s a figment of motivation, of trepidation, of weary nature, and a shroud of obscurity for the future of the universe.

The team carries on, but it’s not the same as it was before. Without the head, a form of leadership to run the pack wild and a muck with strategies and willpower, they have nothing but the instincts they portray through the strengths of each other. Sometimes missions based on just that aren’t enough to keep them all afloat. 

They try to work around things, make it better, stick together, but it’s not the same as when Shiro called the shots. 

Keith can’t even consider it a team effort anymore. It’s just a cause and effect for who runs after who and altogether no matter the plan's instruction, they all failed to follow anything at all. 

It all leads to problems. Failures lead to fights, none can shape up for recklessness, Keith is the worst offender of it, Lance a close second. 

When they come home through a mission, hot from the sweat of battle and spilled blood, It’s when Allura has enough. She’s holding a stony glare with them all, berating in a wild ire over the carelessness of their actions. Nothing can be said for what’s happened, someone came close to dying and that person was surely Pidge, who suffered the worst of an onslaught. They want to say it’s nobody's fault, they all fell behind, there was too many soldiers. But she can tell that’s just a blatant lie in itself. Some people just don’t put forth the effort of catering time looking out for others. Keith is the worst offender of it. Lance is a far closer second. 

Even in sparring actions, it showed. Keith has better chance, better luck looking out for driving action. A short of closer incision- parry parry thrust-duck, and repeat. Just as instructions driven from the mouth of leader, a man locked away on a journey and disvalued on Kerberos. 

He’s not here to see it anymore, not here to see the devotion Keith puts in with so much effort and willpower it’s should be acknowledged as well as seen with a gift of talent in the eyes. Keith has to keep telling himself--it matters, this matters, because for someone like Shiro, they should all be giving it the best of it. 

Despite reckless behavior like Lance would say to him during battle. Voice high and imprudent with a violence of concern tearing at the wounds. _You’re gonna hurt yourself one day._

Despite the ignorance to death, like Lance would say to him in the aftermath, hands are gripping onto a distilled wreck of red and shades of green and blue. Shaking, fearful, a spit of taunting angst somewhere underneath a bed of anger. _You could get hurt out here, one day…._

Despite the way Keith tries so hard to ignore it, tries to overcome it with a defiant rain of- I can handle it, I can do it; there’s not a damn Galran ship in this sky that couldn’t take me down. I’m doing this for you, I’m doing this for someone else.

 _What are you doing? We have to stick together!!_  
_Whatever I can.._

They don’t seem to understand it as well as he does, that moment in time when he actually cared about himself, when he could still stand down his ground without a tuck or a fumble. When he could say things and mean things and actually put in the confidence as well as the effort in trying. Keith’s as wild and foolhardy and rash as the days back to the Garrison. They don’t understand because they don’t see it, they’re weren’t always there to watch like Shiro was.

When they make it back this time, Keith stands alone upon the tiles, ignores the shaking warnings in his body- it can’t keep carrying him on borrowed energy. He’s gonna need to eat sometime soon; and he does but it’s only by just a little, not a lot; otherwise he’s heading ways to a stomachache and a pulsing headache that lasts days.

He can hear voices calling in the hallways coming closer, it takes but a beat of rhythmic churning in his drink to not try and listen in because he recognizes that voice, and the laughter it accompanies. Lance doesn’t know how to leave him alone anymore, they make it back from their terrain adventures across the vast universes and worlds, across plateaus of moss and wetlands of crystals and ice, and somehow he’s acting different. 

He’s grown, and less garrulous, eyes as dark as syrup and dripping with a talk. They don’t wisecrack the air like kids having a joke on each other as much anymore. Somewhere on battlegrounds fake or not it’s not the same as it used to be. Lance is just as serious as the rest, if not more staid than Keith himself, but he’s had years and years of patience in ignoring just that thought. 

Sometimes he half wishes they’d say something, that’s not akin to a nasty push up against a wall for a reprimand on reckless nature. That’s not a plea for paying close attention to his surroundings-- You’re gonna yourself killed out here, dying out, beads of sweat lying over the wasteland of a forgotten home. A body dead by sunrise and Keith closes his eyes. 

They enter in, and Keith’s almost halfway out the door before they even have the chance of seeing each other’s eyes. He can’t waste another gamble overlooking murky shades of blue that speaks volumes on the risk of something atomic. Lance doesn’t even have the time to get anything out when Keith leaves. It's empty; nothing really comes off the tongue better than silence. 

—————————————————————---------------------------------------------------------------------------

“ Are you always like this..?” 

 

It’s the third day coming, Lance is tilting his head off to the side, seemingly being honest in his question. The bayard at Keith’s side has slithered out from his grasp. If he has enough willpower in himself to actually carry on with this training exercise- he would, but at ease, being a little underwhelmed with battling wounds have told him different. 

For a minute, he almost doesn’t want to answer that question, almost thinks about leaving the other without an incentive to get more nosey, ease in, crawl under his skin like he normally does. 

“ No, Keith says, getting up, the bayard is picked off the ground, readying himself.  
In hindsight, it’s a lie, a really blatant one, because Lance knows better than to believe something so obvious, his eyes paint the itching duplicity of it. 

“ You so sure about that?” It sounds like a taunt-not actually one, and Keith dismisses a look to the other side of the training ground, their foe a another white soldier, tall and stoic, awaiting command of adversary. 

The level shifts from difficulty, Keith knows this one like the back of his hand, he’s done it over a thousands times over a thousand different tries. Lance looks it over warily, he’s unsure of these things as actually good for the fight, but Keith could spill the secret behind the regime and that would have been the end of it. No doubt he would love to tell Lance about everything. But everything is not now, and they’re wasting time on talks like this when the problem still lies elsewhere and they have better things to worry about. 

 

When it attacks, Keith is ready, he runs straight, without restraint, without fear, and somewhere in between the bursts of swords and flexing ducks and tumbles, Lance is following after, not as experienced in this higher leveled stance of fighting ,but keeping up with Keith nonetheless. Talent dancing in his legs, gun aimed, Keith’s never seen a face so serious. Lance twists with a shot that goes straight for the chest of their enemy, breaking a smile and Keith somehow relaxes. 

You so sure about that?  
Positive.

 

—————————————————————-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Without Shiro, there is no balance, there is no safe trail of actions and responsibility , there is no form of plans that stay in motion minutes after they’ve been executed. There is no accountability, there is nothing. Keith is well aware that if any of this were to continue, someone’s gonna suffer for it. 

Without a leader, the reigns of this pack are let opened with a flagging cut wound. No one knows how to handle battles with strategy anymore than they do just following orders and Keith tries to understand it. 

Without a head, forming Voltron is just a concept, and in mind and theory, the idea of just splitting up a weapon seems intransitive as it is in theory of how ill efficient it sounds. If a weapon is so powerful enough to sweep across lands as vast as this galaxy carries, what’s the use in splitting it up? What’s the need in keeping them separated if by some hand one of all is needed? 

Keith doesn’t really understand it, doubting that anyone would if not for Allura illustrating it carefully when they return again. 

They are left without any openings, none to suffice where the black lion is, fear scatters the majority of Allura’s eyes, however hidden from sight, she’s masking it as well as anyone else can. 

Keith thinks just the same as she does, whether or not their losses are cutting short of being hopeful. Of whether he’s still out there, of whether it’s too late and Zarkon already has what he wants. They don’t wanna say it out loud, and Keith be damned with letting the thought fester in his head for too long before he begins to loathe the general gist of the assumption. 

No Shiro is not that careless, Shiro isn’t gone, he’s not gone, he’s never been gone and Keith knows this. 

He knows it because it’s happened all before. On the gulf of an Arizona horizon, many nights spent crossing over a border of pictures, newspaper clippings, and red threads. They all etched together an image of a lost boy and his crew, the tale of a man who once went to Kerberos and never came back. The tale of a man who once looked after, looked on, and carried Keith a pathway to the stars; one he’s been waiting for for so long. 

He knows that it’s all a lie, Shiro is careful, not careless, he’d defend and fight on, like his chest doesn’t bury with bullets or run off into the sun whilst still feeling the sting of legs giving out beneath him. He’s a fighter, a soldier, a teacher, an inspiration. No Shiro is not careless, he’d defend Black to the death, till the last breath. 

But yet the answers so far are telling him different, Keith wants to ignore it for every fiber of his being tells him it’s not the same as last time. This is not the same, you need to just let it go. Keith is so far drowning in it every night so much as he can hate awaking the next morning, black moons under the eyes. No one knows the truth like Keith does, Shiro has gone and died and gone again like a ghost severing in between planes of existence. He’s gonna come back, he’s done this all before. Keith’s done this all before. 

The others have no doubt in their minds about it, but it doesn’t stop the doubting looks and wary words. It doesn’t stop the fact that every time they come close to death at the fury and mercy of war and scorching wounds, they can’t even form the behemoth they’ve come so close to knowing off the back of their hands anymore. 

It doesn’t stop with the way Keith now carries himself, the way he doesn’t care about the well being of his own. Not like how things were in the Garrison, or with the sprawling of the Arizona desert reaching at ends at the borders of a board and pictures and red threads. It doesn’t stop with the clenching in his chest, the collapse of air and matter and nightmares at night. Lance can’t stop reaching out even when he’s not needed, the others don’t know how to calm the nerves of never seeing a future less bleaker than this; Keith hates it. 

He hates everything about this, it’s just not fair.  
Fuck this team, and fuck his doubt.… 

Shiro isn’t gone.

 

—————————————————————----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Hunk considers resignation. 

It’s the first thing to pop out of his mouth in a day, to the faces of the others who have all but watched themselves crumble at the feet of yet another failure.  
It surprises most but doesn’t surprise Keith, who only but glares in the yellow paladin’s vicinity, a shared face of enmity, clenching knuckles. 

“ What? But Hunk-” Allura starts, and if her voice is to go by on anything, she’s seems to be trying to understand that message better herself. There’s no anger behind it but her expression carries it different, let him explain himself and maybe it will all turn out better than said. Only it probably won’t as Hunk is not as good at explaining it as he is with keeping the peace. 

 

“ I’m just saying, I think that what we’re doing is great and all but, look around yourself, he says, “ All of this isn’t getting us anywhere.. and we’re getting beat up more times than we can blast back.” A bit of stumbles in between his words, Keith doesn’t really read amidst it, getting up from his seat on the floor. 

“ I know we’re all still on the search for Shiro, but it’s been only a month now and we had no luck since the first day we came back. At this point, I think it’s safe to assume the worst and maybe for try a different route but I honestly think--”

“ You think what?” In minutes, Keith is off the floor, to the other side, to Hunk, with a finger pointing sterile; defensive. He has but a lot to say, but not enough to yell at hunk, not to him. Hunk deserves a little credit for trying, despite how much Keith wants to and doesn't because he can't. 

At the tone however, Hunk seems startled, putting away his words in his mouth. Nothing comes up and each is rewarded with silence so Keith brings it back. It all reminds him of the day Pidge has wanted to take off, leave behind the team for a search, how the backlash of Keith calling it selfish for wanting to turn tail and run. Nobody should want to have to walk out on this not for anything and certainly not for the bane of Shiro.

Keith doesn’t really understand where all this call to accusations is coming from, or why and when he started calling it the same selfish act as it was back then.  
But it happens again and he can’t regroup anything his mouth hasn’t already taught, seeing a figure come in between the two in a flash of blue. 

“ You can’t just abandon us like that, not after everything we’ve just been through! And so what? Just because we haven’t found him yet doesn’t mean we all should hang up our suits and call it quits!”

“ That’s not what i’m trying to say-”

“ It’s not what you’re trying to say, because you don’t wanna word it that way. You don’t wanna make it sound like that’s what you’re trying to say, but you are, and that’s a little selfish.”

“ Keith! That’s enough!” Lance is grasping between pushing either of them away and pulling Keith in by the shoulder, maybe to drag attention to him or to further the berth between him and his closer friend. Eyes as dark as scattering black seas,spacey, he hasn’t seen them like that since--

Hunk seems a little hurt, backing away from Lance’s hand with a mutter of something Keith couldn’t catch. The rest of the room doesn’t seem as pleased, silence overtaking while a matter of hands captures Keith's frame. Keith is pushed away from the group, pushed without a word across of a split lip when they make to the other side of the door. His back slams with grey walls and then there’s a talk.

“ You need to chill out..” 

Keith lets himself hang by the wall, it adds comfort in places when his eyes won’t warrant a glance for Lance to look at. His expression doesn’t paint much to offer, maybe a shred of apology on his part for spitting out like that. But it should be directed towards Hunk not Lance, not the boy in blue, not the one that always comes running.

Keith feels his chest flare with something faint. “ He can’t leave Lance.. Not right now, Not when we’re this close.” 

He can’t see it but Lance’s face drops, something in his lips flatten, corners tight. It would be a lot more easier to have to explain this if someone else were in his place. Someone who better understood Keith than what’s he’s given for. If Shiro were in Lance’s place, there would be easy words. Maybe a glance of disappointment: You’re better than this Keith, I know you are. Be the better person. Keith would argue different, but in the end Shiro’s right to add the comment. 

“ He can’t go.. It’s not--We can’t just break off at the sign of no hope for Shiro okay? Just because we had no luck, or because we’re aren’t doing so good, or because we’re not succeeding the way that we should and we’re getting hurt more than we’re fighting for doesn’t mean we should give up…” he says, and his fingers clench together. 

Behind the shade of his hair, he watches Lance’s body shares its weight to one side, uncomfortable. As it should be an uneasy topic for either of them, who doesn’t wanna hear about this? Minutes seems to pass and Lance hasn’t said anything towards that effect of words. He must be processing it all together, reworking out bits, thinking his words carefully. It reminds Keith of how Lance used to act around the commanders of the Garrison, how they used to reprimand in fierce reminders of his status- the twitch in his lips says it enough. Eyes unclear, bleeding murky. 

“We can’t just abandon this all on one assumption.”

“ Nobody’s saying it’s an assump--”

“ But that’s exactly what you’re thinking. 

“ That’s not at all what I’m saying--”

“ Then what else could it be? A state of helplessness? That we won’t find him in time? That we’re wasting all our energy out here for nothing?” It wasn’t meant to come out like that, he didn’t mean to snap so harshly, a sharpen edge of a knife that cuts off Lance once again with a heavy look. It makes Keith wish he had kept quiet about his opinions. 

Tell me what do you think it is?

Lance bites, “ It’s not that he wants to.. It’s just that he feels like we've driven ourselves into a pickle we can’t get out of. That’s it.” That’s the answer and Keith wants to scoff and say it’s bullshit. So what? They’ve been through worst, they’ve survived enough of the universe's crisis, what’s to give out on this have to do with climbing out of a bad hole? They can handle it. 

So Keith wants to say, but he feels like his words has hurt enough people, and adding more would incite a fight he’s not ready to break peace on. 

“ So you’re just gonna let him leave?” He presses, hoping that the answer he hears isn’t as bad as the first answer. He’s hoping Lance isn’t playing support on this, but there’s not much he can do about it if the truth rings itself out. Keith expects the most obvious answer, because this is Lance’s best friend they're talking about, this is right around Lance’s alley of understanding, and yet Lance says nothing. 

Keith doesn’t like all this resolute silence, it’s starting to crush his way of thinking, he’s used to Lance talking an ocean of expressions, opinions, ways of thinking, and making jokes. Laughing a storm and cracking smiles that beam out like the sun over the horizon. 

Lance is but an ocean of cruising feelings, ways that even Keith doesn’t quite understand it well enough to piece it all together. They aren’t friends, but they’re not enemies, they don’t tussle and spat like they used to. There’s no evil eyes and junctures of taunting nature between either even as they spar, even as they try to make things better between each other and the rest of the team. What they have is complicated. 

There are times where Keith feels like they’re getting better, changing their ways towards one another, and then it all comes to crumble at their feet, again and again. It’s almost like faith doesn’t want them to work it out the way that he wants it to. Lance shifts, almost like he’s ready to move, get away from this conversation, Keith gets off the wall, _not so fast._

 

“ Lance..”

Are you gonna let him leave?  
Are you gonna let him go and abandon all of this?

 

If Shiro were here, this would be easier, he always know what to do, always know what’s best. At least in that question, Keith tries, he’s learning, still is, still wants to, despite what anyone thinks. 

You’re all better than this.  
And Keith could argue.

Lance doesn’t pull away from the hand that wraps itself around his wrist, Keith is biting chapped lips when he goes to grab their attention. Almost regretting reaching out when stormy eyes catch the reflection of his question in his own. Shun away if he wants, let Lance try and regroup, but Keith still wants that answer, he needs to know. 

There’s a wavelength of unease flowing between both, and on some instance Keith is ready to let that arm go and forget this. If someone doesn’t say something in the next minute, he’ll assume the worst. He’s gonna let Hunk go, Keith knows it, he just does.

“ Are you really..?” Keith starts, and then stops. Lance is pulling in closer, the arm that’s grabbed is wrenched away and replace at the side of Keith’s shoulder. Keeping him in place, and all at once Keith wishes he hadn’t left the wall out of doubt. There’s no leverage behind him, he feels like falling back, escape the hands covering his sides but stands still. Discernment marks an expression on Lance too uncommon that Keith thinks of it as an anomaly- it paints a disjuncture compared to all the faces Lance has pulled in the past and then Keith shuts up for the rest of it.

“Nobody is going anywhere right now okay?” Lance iterates each word carefully, like they’re delicate, like he’s pressing the matter to a lost individual, masking it with reassurance. 

“ We’re not going anywhere, I’m not going anywhere. We’re all just a little shaken up on certain stuff , and some of us need a little bit more time over thinking things than others, that doesn’t necessarily mean we’re giving up.  
It doesn’t mean that we’re losing in on hope it’s---” Lance stammers, losing focus.

“ I’m not asking him to leave. Hunk is his own person, he can choose to do whatever he wants but that doesn’t mean I always have to agree. Cause I don’t really agree with it either, but if he makes that choice to go, then…”

Keith watches the way Lance gulps a breath down, his apple bobbling; lowering his head to the warmth of a shoulder. He seems to get it, understand what’s happening here, his nerves reaching a more calming level. 

“ Nobody is going anywhere.” Lance says it again, and it sounds so genuine and soft that Keith is almost relishing in anger over the statement. Sounds like bullshit where else he could be wrong. Because it’s happened all before, for a man that went on a trip and never came back a year or so later, for a man that’s come and died and come again, for a man gone missing. 

They stay like that till Keith is pressuring to sit by the wall, heavily leaning over each other without saying much. A million things fluctuating in and out of his mind while Lance simply stares to the floor. 

You’re all supposed to be better than this. Shiro would have said;  
and Keith would argue, somewhere within the press of every earnest thought and beat in his heart 

No, we’re not.

—————————————————————------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

They’ve finally found what they’ve been looking for. 

A Galran ship carrying the weight of the Black lion, it’s almost like a dream come true, a wish made into reality, what they’ve all been waiting for. 

Allura has never been so serious, maybe not as often as they see her get; calling out orders and a plan on sight to everyone in the room as they prepare for the recovery. Keith has made his way steadily towards the path of Red, who looms and hums with an gentle hello to his presence. She’s gotten better, with upgrades and more efficiency to deflect an onslaught if the times comes. Being inside feels like home in his hands, he’s never been happier. 

On the way there he remembers the look of Lance, the way he presently hypes himself up for it, the way his smile cracks up upon the calm of his face; it suits him better than the trainwreck he became over the course of a week. Waning in between hiding hours in his room and making jokes about it as a shield from anyone who asks.

Hunk had decided to stay, much to everyone’s respite, much to Keith’s doubt. Yellow is steady and large, built with intent for impact and heavy hits. She’s a work of reveling conviction; Keith can hear the hollers of Lance roaring himself and Hunk up over the static voices of the comm. It helps in some form or another; forming a smile on Keith's lips when they get ready to go. 

Someone has to be there to grab the Lion, If Shiro isn’t present, they must resort to the second offer of having someone take over, and that thought scares Keith the more he hears on it, a resurface of something awful churning in his gut. Nobody wants to assume the worst, but Allura takes that one percent chance, riding on the side with Hunk as her voice carries from the comms over the state of their plan once again.

They ride out in order of each other, in a pack out to the waves of space.  
The course of stars and the castle waning ways behind them as they disperse.  
It makes Keith recall the shots of space he’s seen in pictures, on the ground in his wholes of books and polaroids. 

He thinks about Shiro and presses forward, on the ways of the ship ahead. He’s nearly there. 

I’m coming. Don’t worry  
I’m coming.

 

—————————————————————------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Keith’s been running through this corridor for too long, it’s been what feels like an hour, a little too long for his tastes. The sword of his bayard have deflected as many enemies as they come, cut down, drawn out with precision. Some blows have hit more than the rift surface of his skin. Not that he bothers to care much about himself at this point so much as he is looking for Shiro. That’s the job.

Priority number one: Find Shiro, get him out safely, get the black lion and fan out.  
That’s what he had in mind, leaving Red behind when a opening was cleared, he spreads himself out from the rest despite the protest.

What are you doing? We’re supposed to stick together!  
Whatever I can. 

There’s a sick feeling resigning within the pits of his stomach, legs have lagged behind in their open sprint across corners of hallways and evading dangers. Time here is running short, alarms signaling no escape and yet his chances of getting through any obstacles of security besides the common foot soldiers and overhead turrets have lead him not so far off the course. 

Laboring breaths sing with a harsh repeat for air; while the swarming sting of his broken arm from a fight gone wrong first opening outside two security gates only make the pulsating paranoia of his fears more commonplace on his mind than anything else.

Shiro would have said that was careless, but Keith at this point doesn’t really care. 

He can hear the clamors of war outside, the wall shuddering with whines of destruction. It’s not doing well on his vague sense of direction, stopping every which way till he feels like he’s running in circles. The hallways are too thin, the area of covered ground too occupied, They've long since known an intruder has caught within the web of their lair, searching every which way, he can still hear the voices calling over cracked speakers. 

He hadn’t meant to leave the team so underpowered, hadn’t meant to take advantage of this time, but instincts had kicked in, he saw the chance and took it, growing restless with waiting. He remembers how desperate Allura sounded over the comm links, Pidge yelling, the sounds of crossing spite fires. Lance calling out his name.

We’re supposed to stick together. 

 

Keith knows, but he’s also knows that Shiro is here. He has to be, The two are separate but still linked in mind, they wouldn’t just dispose of one without further command. He knows it, but something still doesn’t feel right.  
Obstacles get in the way, certain things break force over his body, but he carries on; sword still swung with a violent dance in it’s motion.

He doesn’t stop running until he’s seen the clearing, doesn’t stop running till his head is dizzy from the bloodshed over his arm, doesn’t stop until he’s seen that familiar shade of black cross his eyes, the fair shape of a face familiar. 

It’s not Shiro, but it’s something worth the trouble, and by the end when he does reach the clearing of it, it’s well protected by a shield. The room’s a spacious garage with a gate as an exit out, not as the same as ones he’s past in his search. Black has never looked so wrecked. 

Hearing voices echo out from the dark of the hallways makes Keith work faster, moving towards the panel of Galran tech to place his hand over in smooth transition of the shield’s shudder and click away for Black Lion’s freedom. There’s no time to maneuver out of blasts when they come, swarming his location like they're trapping an animal. Keith climbs down from his spot to make a run for cover. Too fast, they shoot, his sword has done enough damage, done enough for him. But with incoming enemies set afoot from each other, and too many blows, the only way out is through the exit locked tight behind Black. He reconsiders his choices. 

 

 _Sometimes going for an opening isn’t always smart._

Keith has learned enough, in hindsight during a more pressing time, he’s reminded of his battle for Red, the way he crossed swords with those who came between him and his lion and then he remembers. 

He goes out, unshielded by cover, legs kicking in afterburners as he runs for it. 

_Sometimes it’s better to run._

In minutes his eyes find the button, the roar of the outside commends itself in his hesitance over when it’s pressed. 

_And assess your surroundings with a different play of strategy._

Keith has no time to get back before the doors slides open ,suction pulls his body back like a cannon. The outlands of space starting to drag and pull the ones left without leverage to it's grasp, he can’t hear over the swirling mass of winded air tugging him outward. But if the soldiers getting caught out in the open from the roar of space tackling them under is anything to go by, it's that he needs to move. Fast.

_You get it?  
Yeah. I got it._

Keith slips up. His hands snaps from the heel of the railing as the air in the room tips him over. Flipping backwards out in the sea of stars, he curses himself, gaining less control and losing sight of the ship up ahead.

Over static comm links and vast scape of stars, he swears there’s a voice calling out somewhere on his behalf. It’s shouting, someone belligerent ,red in the face as if his can decipher who’s face is wreaking havoc behind a screen, as if he’s even aware a name is being called at all while he scrambles at nothing to get him back. He thinks it would have been easier to grab to something, maybe take shelter within Black, but that’s Shiro’s known territory and Shiro so far isn’t… 

Shiro is gone isn’t he?

His mind does a relapse, air collecting mist over the sight of his helmet visor.No he’s here, he’s lost, he’s somewhere. Shiro is everywhere where he is not. Shiro is everything where else he isn’t. Shiro is a figment of motivation, of trepidation. Shiro is weary nature where else he cares too much, he is a shroud of obscurity lost at sea. He holds the weight of the future on his shoulders just as much as everybody else does. Everybody here that’s fighting for something they hadn’t even signed on for and yet--

\---------------  
“ Do you really think Shiro is gone?” Lance asks over the weight of the light, over the way of the bedside where Keith lies on his side trying to rest a wound. He almost doesn’t hear Lance when he says it, pretends like he didn't, floating somewhere around in his own thoughts. 

“ What?”

Lance shifts uncomfortable, his body a kiss of blue and grey from the mirage of the window, it paints his skin in patterns and softens his wayworn look. Keith would even go so far to say that it makes Lance look beautiful in the starlight , if he were looking on for too long. 

“ I said, do you think he’s really gone?” Eventually Keith will roll over on his side to look, stare at the patterns on the walls. They make the same shapes as they do to Lance, who can’t at the moment meet eyes. 

What are you so worried about? Keith wants to say, the only one here who thinks that is you. He makes a face, unseen but carefully thinking out the answer. 

Fairly put, that’s one of his many questions in his head. One of the things that keeps him up at night, marks him restless, leaves him upset and shaking and wearing crescent moons under his eyes when the day comes.To say that he has doubts is an understatement, to say that he isn’t as worried about it himself as Lance is a lie. He’s more than just worried, it’s blatant warranted concern, worry is an understatement. 

In hindsight, he would have said something else, would have let the wedge of fretting over the lost eat away at his skin and thoughts. Would have said he’s indifferent, would have told Lance to shut up, Would have told him to go to sleep. 

“ No, I don’t.”  
Lance finally looks over, his eyes misted from something Keith can’t see in this darkness. They seem to be smiling, but Keith isn’t all that sure about it from how it’s so faint and distant from any other smile Lance has ever worn. It’s like he’s expecting something, maybe a “Yeah me too, or a “ I sure hope you’re right about this one.” Keith wouldn’t be surprised, trust on this one, he’s done this before. He’s been right on it where else others have told him different. 

“ There’s a reason I didn’t go to his funeral, he starts, staring at nothing, and then some, warily making a quick glance to Lance then to the window.  
The scene is a blur of cloudy days and cut grass. The scene of flowers and a casket and a line of soldiers in arms. Keith hates thinking about it. 

The line seems to grabs Lance’s attention, like he remembers it, like he was there. Except he wasn’t either, and only heard of it in passing through the halls and the people who associated best with such a kind gifted student. The lost boy and his crew, the man who once went to Kerberos and never came back.  
That’s what they all heard, that’s what they were told. 

Keith knows it different, and went with it till he was blue in the face and knocked out of the Garrison. He went with it till his stuff was moved box to box to the deserted home over the horizon on sunken sands and wind. He went with it till Shiro came back, and he went out of his way to run fast, grab his bike and bandana and motor out with a mission. 

Things just panned out the way that he had believed it, maybe not exactly as thought out but close to it.

Lance looks like he doesn’t want to press, his mouth moves and then it doesn’t, and then he licks his lips, thinking. “ Why?”

Notably Keith knows the answer to that one, told himself over a hundred times.  
“ Because I just had a feeling..”  
\-------------

Something clammers and clicks around Keith, his arm covers the majority of his face, shrouded in coats of darkness; he can’t see a damn thing. His visor feels cracked, arm twisted up but at least he’s not floating. The ground around him is solid and sturdy almost familiar yet different and acrimonious. 

 

This volume of intensity- it doesn’t feel like Red.  
Keith shifts in his footing, almost trips and then make contact with the back of a chair seated outright in front of an control panel. It looks to be the same as Red’s but not as vibrant, there’s something off about it. 

It’s void and ill-inquisitive, it feels prideful, bruising, almost quiet and Keith doesn’t realize the notions of it being another Lion till he squints at the panel again and recognizes the colors. 

Black. 

He steps back, almost startled, almost paranoid, because that can’t be right, that can’t be where he is. That shouldn’t be the case if Red was still around. His eyes cross over the area in corners. That can’t be right, there’s no way this is-

_One of these days, you’ll even surpass me, and when that day comes  
I hope to be there to congratulate. _

Keith doesn't know what it is, whatever kind of force is pulling at him to sit down and take control. He almost doesn’t, almost feels uncertain, but takes the reigns in hands, body resting in a chair a little bigger than he is and he thinks wow was Shiro ever big enough to fit here? 

The comms rings with a familiar light, someone’s trying to contact in, and Keith goes for before he spies something off to the floor. A helmet sits quiet by the base of the panel, Its look carries a sign of definite stasis to it’s form, collecting dust, like it's been there for a while. Keith wants to crumble in his seat. 

_Do you really think Shiro is gone?_

He gets up slowly. 

_No I don’t._

His hands grabs for the helmet . It’s all so heavy in his hands. A feeling withers up into a ball inside Keith. 

_Lance finally looks over, his eyes misted from something Keith can’t see in this darkness. It’s like he’s expecting something, maybe a “Yeah me too, or a “ I sure hope you’re right about this one.”_

Something in his gut twists up, Keith feels the weight of the atmosphere around him shudder and enclose on his shoulders. He doesn’t wanna sit down. 

_“ There’s a reason I didn’t go to his funeral, he starts, staring at nothing, and then some, warily making a quick glance to Lance then to the window.The scene is a blur of cloudy days and cut grass. The scene of flowers and a casket and line of soldiers in arms. Keith hates thinking about it._

Keith doesn't wanna sit down, he doesn’t wanna look at this, he doesn’t to do anything but clench his fist over something and lash out. Feeling the textures of the helmet in his hands. It can’t be anything he won’t expect. It can’t be anything worse than what he feels. 

_Lance looks like he doesn’t want to press, his mouth moves and then it doesn’t, and then he licks his lips, thinking. “ Why?”_

Eventually Keith finds his place at the base of the control panel again, overlooking nothing, thinking about something worst than what he’s expecting over the shade of stars and meteors and dust of the planets surrounding him. He’s trying to think positive and overcomes the negatives because he doesn’t want to be wrong about the one thing he’s been spreading about blue in the face of others. 

Keith doesn’t want to be wrong. 

_Notably Keith knows the answer to that one, told himself over a hundred times.“ Because I just had a feeling..”_

It was a feeling, a good one, and it’s never wrong, not on this account. The comms that which he left well alone are still blinking in and out when he pushes Black to move on towards the ship, back to the others. Everything in here feels too unfamiliar and too empty for Keith to feel comfortable. It’s not as warming as Red is, it’s doesn’t have that emotion going for it. Everything is left sedated in a power he's never worked with before, never felt that he knew that he had. But Keith tries to push past it, too caught up in heavy feelings to actually give a shit about anything at this point. 

Eventually he does turn off the comm, putting all else off for the world to bite back on him when he gets back home in the shell of Shiro’s lion. There’s going to be a lot of explaining to do for this, a lot of questions, ones that Keith doesn’t have and wouldn’t be able to explain anyway that he knows how without somehow screwing it up.  
Things would be easier if Shiro were here, but he’s not, and Keith is the kid stepping out of the curtains finally facing the reality of that sentence. 

The other comm placates with answers, he’s tempted to give it a push and sees just what started and ended this mess that they’re all in. In exchange for not trusting his gut’s oversensitive churns of doubt, it should have been as clear as day. But here Keith is going for it anyway, pushing the button and letting himself be washed over in the voice and face of Shiro hitting his screen. 

It’s almost real for a little bit; it feels like it, his mouth twitching at the corners as he musters a straight face. 

_“ To anyone who gets this message in time, wherever this ends up or whether it’s a member of the Voltron team or not, I just want it to be said that I’m not here.”_

Keith realizes he can’t muster a straight face right away.

_“And that I won’t be wherever this gets picked up. I’m making this message known, because I’m hoping it gets to the right people. Hoping that they at the very least know what’s at stake and what’s going on, and what’s happened in terms of my wellbeing. “_

Somewhere in between the lines and Shiro’s weathered expression, Keith exhales, pushing forward, he doesn’t look on for the stars anymore, doesn’t bother a glance towards the helmet, his mind frequents between keeping close eyes on the oncoming ships ahead, hands steady. 

_“In terms of where I am, I’m afraid I can’t really answer that question. I’ve been out here hopping through sand and wasteland for too long. I don’t know when I’m gonna make it back or when I’ll ever see anyone again. We were doing fine, up until the jump, the Galrans had caught up to us, and we did what we could. But it wasn’t enough.”_

Keith doesn’t need the reminders, his mind replays that same scene of events more than he can withstand to bear, it causes his teeth to grit together when the Lion is blasted by an enemy nearby. 

_“ We didn’t have a lot of time, and there wasn't enough firepower to stop an army but at the very least one of us made it out. Even if it was by chance, one of us still made it back and that’s all that matters. At least for me it does. “_

These buttons are not the same as Reds, they don’t coincide the same way as Keith knows them, but he shouldn’t compare. Red and black are two different beings.One is valiant and ample in emotion, the other void of anything and still just as strong if not powerful in it’s grace. They’re not supposed to be the same.

_“In light of that sentence, I guess I should say that this message relays to Keith the most. So if you’re listening to this Keith, I want you to know that this is about you."_

Keith encloses on the enemy, they’re blasted to dust ,an area of plated metal and other materials laid to waste drifting off into the currents of space. He almost doesn’t recognize his name over the static belt of the comm’s relayed message. Glancing over. There’s a reason I didn’t go to his funeral. 

_“I know you’re probably wondering where I am right now, but I want you to understand that you don’t need to look for me. I’m gonna be fine.”_

Keith doesn’t need the reminders. 

_“Worry about yourself and worry about the team for right now, you all have bigger problems waiting ahead of you. “_

He doesn’t need the reminders. 

_“Do what you can for the time being, and worry about getting this back to the castle if you can. I’m entrusting a lot in you, and I’m hoping this works because I don’t really have any more options. “_

He doesn’t need the reminders as much as he needs to keep going. Keep fastening forward, without restraint, without care. Not that he doesn’t care, but because he’s trying. Something stings at his eyes as Shiro continues, there’s a inhale somewhere deep and unraveled in uncertainty, poking holes in his gut and in his mind and in his heart and everything else that Keith wishes he didn’t understand and doesn’t understand it-- doesn’t want to be force fed the bad news. This was suppose to be a goddamn rescue mission, they were all supposed to make it out. 

_I know you’ll do the right thing for this team, because I have trust in you and a lot of faith._

 

Keith has never pressed so hard on anything before, never felt this bad. It matters in the way his hand shakes when he sends fires of shots heading towards offending ships, moving out in patterns, the same parry- thrust-duck regime he remembers during the training ground, with a boy in blue keeping up at the waist. 

It matters in the way his brains relays that information carefully suspicious. Because trust and faith are two of the same things but two abstractly differing in meanings and he’s never really thought they came one in the same package, it sounds almost unbelievable. But he carries on, because at the very least, he can bring this home. At the very least what he can do is give Shiro this and take it back to the team. At the very least he can go home, albeit only half empty handed. 

_“And I say this with all certainty in my heart….”_

At the very least he can get Black home. Spiraling through space, whilst the comms on the other end of his side blinks in and out. Mixed emotions attached to some vague reminder in his head  
There’s a reason I didn’t go to his funeral, and then Keith peers for one last second towards the shadow of Shiro; matted white hair and the crack of a smile like the sun. It takes two minutes of silence after he’s cut the message off, the flight home gone silent.

_“ That Keith, if I don’t make it out of this, I want you to lead Voltron…_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Floating aimlessly.


	4. Fountain of Youth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Keith feels like he isn't ready.

When the rest of the team get the news, it’s a mess. 

Keith wasn’t really ready to let it come out, as distressing as the timeframe of events that took place well after the fallout of the planned attack, and through enough reprimanding anger from the mouth of Allura who on instance grabbed Keith by the arm when he first pulled in, broken in one arm bloodied and all over the selfish recklessness of his actions. The rest was not kind, the trip was unsteady. Everybody laid down their fears when they saw Black home, but saw the disheveled shape of Keith’s decision in flying alone. It was not a good night. 

He spent half of his time in an healing pod, and the other half avoiding questions. All at the least, he only wished to be by himself for a time before confronting the matters of the others. He knows what he did, and he’s sorry for it, but in the end, he’s got one more matter to deal with emotionally. And that matter lays in Shiro’s disappearance and that message he left behind. 

He’s not thinking as clearly about much else when they asked where Shiro is and he can offer them no reply because whatever else he had left in strength is gone and lost amongst the lying debris out northern in space; where a battle took place not even but a night ago. 

When they finally get the news of Shiro’s status, they don't believe it.

It's several different emotions happening all at once, a curse of words angry, sad, penitent , and Keith hates every single one, every single piece of regret--and he hates himself even more for thinking that the odds of finding Shiro there on the same ship, would be the add all to ending the sea of doubt they all had in their heads. 

Lance doesn't want to believe it

And he tells Keith straight up that he believes he’s lying at first- he has to be, because there's no way someone like Shiro would just up and disappear like that, just take off and run. That doesn't sound like him at all, and Keith is defensive. Maybe something had happened maybe things went wrong, Keith cannot tell him the answer. 

He's gritting his teeth gently, at ease with letting himself slow down and retaliate his words better, he doesn't want this discussion to linger way out of line. But they don’t know Shiro like he does.They don’t know the motives and they don’t know much else about what had become of him or not, they shouldn’t just jump to assumptions so quickly after being back here once again short a pilot. He's tired, and puzzled into a quarter mile sized wreck along with the rest of them. Pidge and Hunk seems to acknowledge it fairly, however much they don’t want to believe it themselves, and Allura…

She's grown exasperated; having expected it. When first entering the ship, she had her doubts, trembling in and out of her as she lead battles inward while Keith scattered for the Black Lion. She didn’t tell him because she wanted to find it somewhere in her heart that Shiro wasn't a lost cause, that they would come back here not still down a paladin--the one that leads nonetheless and be no less in trouble any more. 

It's sad, and they all don't know how to cope with this very well, it'll be three days in full of a massive silence between them when Keith feels that same spotty source of anxiety resonate vaguely of the same day during the funeral coming back to haunt him frigid in his sleep. 

 

\----------------------------------------------------------------  
Things do not get better. 

They don’t know how handle themselves out in the heat of battle anymore than they did without the Black Lion home.  
It’s like all the training that went on throughout the weeks Keith spent away from Red are loosening up and losing ground around him as it did with others. 

The experience happens in real time over and over again.

They come home tired, worn down, indignant. 

They go out, roaring, courageous and without direction, it’s never the same. 

A pattern of recklessness, a pattern of stubborn irate attitude overflowing in his chest. A pattern of Lance’s worried looks and unreadable expressions, A pattern of Pidge’s tantrums and frustrations, A pattern of distance in Hunk. It grows worse and apparent in seconds by the day and they can’t fix any of it. 

This team is a shipwreck on it’s ways to the depths of destruction. They are loose ends undone by the knot, furling in spirals of mental instability, an uncertain passion flourishing in ways of getting out; on ways on giving up.

Discovering a sense of hopelessness through the cores of their minds and hearts and nothing is helping to make change. They are not the change they were supposed to be for this universe. They are not the last piece of hope they were chosen for. 

Keith would argue it being that none of this was anybody’s choice to begin with, they never signed on for it. It was handed to them the moment they took flight in a big blue lion through a stream of white lights and crystallized symbols. 

Through a castle locked in stasis, and if he had anything to say about it, he would have said it was a coincidence; five beings being handed down the responsibilities of an entire universe held at the mercy of a Tyrant running the show for over several millenniums, no if’s, no ands, no says about it, it all just happened right then and there, all because five powerful weapons chose them to play saviors. 

But it all starts with him doesn’t it? Because he had the power from the start, it was his sixth sense that helped them find the Blue Lion ahead of time before all of this. And then after, the yellow, and green, and Red. This all happened ways before he he even knew he had it. Ways after the so called “death” of Shiro on Kerberos. 

So in a sense, he feels like this is his call to make on, this is his line of blame to offer. But he can’t actually say that, it would make it seem like the job wasn’t made for him, that he wasn’t willing to fight the good wars and add a purpose for himself. 

Shiro once gave him something close to it, but that’s gone now. He isn’t here to fix this unwinding mess anymore. 

It’s just Keith and the others standing behind, picking up the pieces. 

\-------------------------------------------------------

When they later find out that Keith has been promoted up from Red to Black; as the new leader of the group, they are astounded. 

They don’t have the right words to articulate their feelings on the matter, it’s just choked silence. Stun and disbelief scratch the surface of several different pairs of eyes looking over Keith as he relays the message he had gotten that very night, two days ago. 

He is unsure of it himself, mumbling at times when the video would pick out the several details of their escape from the Galran attack, how Shiro didn’t make it, how Keith was more important and needed for this team’s success than he was and it makes Keith’s stomach buckle over. 

They don’t know what to say, Keith turns it off, his own words stuck in his throat when he coughs.  
“ And that’s it, that’s all he left behind.” 

Allura is the first one to come forward, she is concerned. “ Are you sure?” 

“ Yes, I’m positive. I flew back in here with the Black Lion, and he isn’t with me, nor was he anywhere on that ship so I think it’s fair to say that I’m definitely sure.”

She isn’t pleased by it, a slight somber look passing over her features delicate. “ I see. Well that’s going to put a lot dents into our initial plans. I was hoping for sure that we’d find him there considering the luck we had of finding the Black lion, but… I guess flying blindly just on hope wasn’t enough.”

No it certainly wasn’t, he hates to be wrong on his instincts this time around.Keith’s mouth purses with disdain. It’s not fair. 

“ So, Shiro is either gone or still missing somewhere..” Pidge inputs, a finger to her cheek notably. “ Which means that out of the two possibilities, one is more likely over the other but both are still bad in terms of our situation so far.” She makes a face, brows furrowing towards the center. “ I don’t think I’m really liking either odds…”

“ But he puts Keith in charge.” Lance says, from his seat on the couch. He’s lounging backwards in his suit, feet prompted over the arm of the seat with a look that simply doesn’t seem at that impressed or astonished by the announcement. “ Which in my opinion is pretty questionable..” 

“ Lance..” Hunk will get out before a censure gaze towards his blue cladded friend. Keith squints at the response. It doesn’t sound at all like they’re trying to question the choice of Shiro’s pick. But he still pursues a glance with them, the curve of his lips flattening. 

“ What?, I’m serious “ Lance leans up from his seat, arm propping him up by the side, turning. “ It is a pretty questionable choice. I mean given that fact that we almost lost another lion not even but like a month ago, and still are short a paladin for Black, I think putting Keith in that position isn’t really a very smart idea if we’re trying to be tactical. “

Keith feels some form of exhale leave him through his nostrils, Of course Lance would be the first to say something, to object, as if he hasn’t say it much throughout the entire week they’ve spent training. He finds himself leaning back against the wall, but not saying anything in return. Simply glaring under the shade of his bangs.

“ Oh and you think you’d make a better candidate?” Pidge counters, she seems unimpressed with the comment herself, albeit doesn’t show it too obvious, quirking a brow as she leans over her end of the couch. “ Would you have prefered being leader?” 

“ Wha-No no no no, absolutely not. If I was made leader, we’d never get anything done. It would be a mess.” Lance half admits, with a wave in his hand; and Keith is surprised by it, blinking twice from the show as if he had misheard them. “ But like I mean, I don’t know if it’s ever been said for anyone one around here, or if it’s ever been addressed outright, but like does nobody here not see a problem with it?” 

There’s a pause of silence, three pairs of eyes follows patterns of disbelief and curiosity to Lance quiet.  
He notes the atmosphere with an opened eye, nobody has stepped up to say it yet. 

Except for Keith, who knows what’s about to said, and knows where all this talk is headed for, because Lance is no better than a devil’s advocate when it comes down to Keith and all his drawn in topics of mishaps and bad decisions. 

“That.. we’d still be short of a pilot if he did take on Black?” Hunk offers, his words unsure. Lance gives him a look. 

“ I mean that, even if by Shiro’s choice, and a lack of a pilot, it’s not actually a good idea. I mean don’t get me wrong, Keith is… good. He’s great, I won’t deny that. But like what I mean is he isn’t exactly good in terms of leadership. He’s good when it comes to fighting, and good at pretty much everything else except for that and sometimes following behind commands. Which I know we’ve all been guilty of in the past, but his role sticks out more considering his case. “

Keith can already feel the sigh rolling out of him impolite, it’s loud and brings attention to himself when he stares down Lance from the wall, crossing his arms. “ What are you trying to say Lance?” 

The boy leans up even further, pulling his eyes with Keith’s. “ I mean putting you in that position might not be a smart choice. As good as it sounds, I don’t really think it's that good. No offense to you, but you’re not exactly leader material…”

It should baffle him, and frankly he should be a little angry by it, show some kind of defiance towards that just because he can and wants to, but it doesn’t comes out. His words twist. Hunk seems to drive the ball for him, talking back to Lance, “ Hey come on, I’m sure Shiro picked him for a reason, we might not know what it is--”

“ I don’t know, Lance’s got a point. “ 

“ See?” 

“ Okay, but this is Shiro we’re talking about. Shiro is pretty good at the decisions he makes, there has to be a reason for it. Right?” 

“ Which I understand, but still, what reason could that be? 

“ A potentially good one if he’s putting it in the hands of one of us.” Hunk, says, his hands push on the side of one of the chair’s arm. “ He wouldn’t have done this if he didn’t have a good enough reason to, and my guess is that he puts trust in one of us to take on his part as substitute. Keith and him were close in the past, so I’m sure he trusts Keith to fulfill the part just as well as him. That’s one good….right?”

Lance and Pidge sit back in their seats, bemused, Keith is at a loss, he hadn’t expected Hunk to spend defense. 

“ Well when you say it like that…”

“ What matter of choice Shiro decided to make is his decision to abide if he wishes.” Allura cuts in, she patiently watches the other chitter amongst each other over the news. Her eyes flicker patterns over each paladin, landing softly on Keith last before continuing, “ I don’t distrust his choice at all, if he knew what he was doing. Shiro isn’t so tactless enough to leave it in the hands of another if he knew you weren’t all ready to handle it. I agree to some extent, that there will a lot of modifications to input into this further, perhaps even to help straighten out the load now that we have all Lions again. But it won’t be too difficult to figure out.” 

Coran, who stood off to the side a short distance from Allura nods, “ Yes, it’s going to take a lot of work to put this team together again. Shiro wouldn’t have picked one of you to take over if he didn’t think you all didn’t have the potential, however much curious I am to see true intentions behind it being Keith. But nonetheless, we can find ways to work around this.” 

The others don’t seem as keen with the idea, and Keith doesn’t really like it himself. It all seems to imply to him in some form or another that his part in this is crucial, that he was willingly awaiting this moment as it crept up on him. That would be a lie in itself, he doesn’t really think he has it in him to take over. 

“ But then… who’s piloting Red?” Hunk inputs. It’s a question they’re all asking themselves, Keith would have opened up himself.

“ We haven’t decided but if Keith wants to, he can choose to continue with the Red lion.” Allura answers, and her eyes lead back to the Keith by the wall, something uncertain but patient in her eyes. “ What do you wish to do with this?”

In all honesty, he has no real idea of what to do with any of this information. It took him a total of two days just to gain some kind of small understanding of it himself before he crossed the problem with the others. In a matter of it, he’s once again pulled back into something out of his control, into something more complicated and strenuously conflicted with the latter of something he hadn’t chosen for himself to begin with.

The eyes around the room follow him, awaiting the answer, possibly the right one, but he’s not sure he knows which answer is the right one. Shoulders slouching against the cool hum of the wall. He can hear the generators from beyond it, noisy. 

“ I think I need a break for right now..” 

And he says it as quiet as his fingers loosening from the grasp of his arms, getting off the wall. The decision isn’t final, he’s not ready to give one. The others give him looks that say they want to say something, but their mouth stay shut as he walks across the room to the door. Allura hangs her gaze with his back, lips flat but nods faintly. “ It’s your choice Keith, decide for yourself.” 

And that’s just the problem, he can’t.  
Because for this, there’s a lot of fear hanging above the white lines of it, that even he doesn’t think he’s ready to push forward into. 

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

Keith feels like he isn’t ready. 

If he had a thought in his mind somewhere that he was willing to take charge and turn his spot over from Red to Black with even confidence, he’d be lying to himself. He’s no Shiro, and unlike him, Keith isn’t really much for leadership and following paths as he is more easily suited for following his instincts. 

And it would have been better to have found the man instead of this. He would have preferred Shiro back, than having to suspend with this option. 

Coran inputs in some belief that Shiro is still out there, somewhere fighting. The search for him isn’t gonna change, and Keith is pleased with hearing that despite the unease surrounding his absence from Black and the evidence of the lost helmet and message. Keith will choose to ignore that, those aren’t signs of death, it’s a sign of ambiguity, Shiro never said he was gone, he said he was fine, Keith didn’t forget. He’s has that message replayed continuously in his head since he got back here, every word memorized. 

But it just makes things harder since he’s not here now, and they’re not sure what to do, or even where to look. 

Black is intimidating, just being within the space of her is somehow acrid in a way that makes Keith feel uncomfortable. She’s not like Red at all. She’s cold, and furtive, authoritative to a degree, she holds no emotion unlike how the other Lions feel, and when Keith gets the first feel of it, it makes his stomach twist and his expression simmers away in unease. 

He doesn’t think he was made for this. To be with Black, it just doesn’t seem right. But she chose him, for whatever reason that may be; the lion came to him, came after him in the dead of space like protection, her mouth a gaped maw soiling the dark around his figure till he came to. 

Red could have easily came to his aid at any given time, Red could have been the one to come get him.

But it was Black who took that chance and Keith wonders why. 

\-------------------------------------------

Coran will tell him, sometime later, that when a paladin chooses another person who shows potential enough for becoming the next pilot of that Lion they’re stationed at, that lion will stand by the next paladin if the other is unable to in any way. It’s explained delicately as Keith ponders the choices in his head several times while back from a training session with the team and working on engaging himself further into the next search and mission. 

“ If a paladin can’t pilot their lion, or if something were to happen to said person should anything go wrong, they have the option of choosing another they think has the potential and strength to pilot their lion in their place.” Coran says, in between cleaning some of the several pods he has out for the daily routine. 

“ This doesn’t happen often, but it is a safe precaution to take in case anyone fears we’d be short of a paladin during extreme crises. I for one favored that option well, it can be useful and greatly beneficial in the cases of the first pilot being unable to due to injuries or sickness.. “ 

He frowns near the last part, trailing off on his words.  
“ Or.. even for the worst case scenarios which is… you know.” 

He doesn’t wanna say the rest, Keith already knows what he means. Is already aware of what it entails. 

He’s angry about it. 

Every other reason for it works, except for that. He won’t take the last part as an option.

\----------------------------------------------------------------

It’ll be a week of nothing and a week of indecisive nature to come by and take a whole over Keith. 

He continues with Red, all the while avoiding Black and the aura that surrounds it’s being and essence. He keeps telling himself no he’s not ready for that, and that no, just because he felt easy having his control pulse and disperse vastly over it didn’t mean at all that he was willing to take it for a second try. 

Allura can spy his reluctance, it’s abundantly clear to all of them that a plan isn’t being taken into action here at all. Considering their last few days have been nonetheless dreary and full of incertitude. It’s like none of them know what to do anymore, and Keith isn’t making this any easier with all his avoiding and evasion of questions pertaining to the choice of taking over. 

They’ve been at it for so long, it feels like pretense. 

Keith will sit in his room, relay the message again and again, because hearing Shiro’s voice instills a sort of calm in his mind that’s been left jumbled and a wreckage of hurt and emotion. It bathes a sense of clarity where else he wishes he could bide by their actions and take control the way they said to. But the matter is hard, and it’s not because he doesn’t think he can’t handle it, Keith has taken on entire fleets, he thinks one lion is enough of no problem for him. But it’s more beyond that.

The leadership part, is the part he struggles with. Lance’s words bite into him, he’s not leader material. He knows this and agrees with it, Keith is many things all at once. He’s brash, and rational, skilled to a point, and resourceful when the times calls for it. He can handle himself well on his own, smart, fearless, but to take control, to become something and shape a crew of four minds together that work well without another; that part is difficult.

It sticks on him uneven and sharp, and leaves him heavy and restless at night when he’s less than unnerved by the night terrors that crawl patterns of anxiety over his skin.

Clouding his mind, all he sees is Black and Red.

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

They go on a mission to a planet made of moss and wetlands. 

It’s cold when they step off into the marsh, the land are a shaky mass of hillsides and lakes of crystal green; the skies painted in colors of bright orange and in the night, a dimmed pink. They go together in a group as diplomats, to bring peace as Allura had first instructed. Keith is at a loss with the world around them, fascinated as the rest, but stays close behind, some space away from Lance.

The people here, they call this place Algenia. Amphibious beings with gills on their cheeks that pulse open as they talk. Sharp blue eyes that look grey in the sun, and skin as slippery and frail. They bring up their problems to them as easily as they do warming up to the group of paladins and leader. Allura presents a plan and a way to end the reign of control that the Galra have in their midst of tyranny over the people and lands. Keith stands by to the side while the leaders converse, Lance gives him looks and he tries not to address him at the moment focusing on the task at hand when Allura is done finishing their talk and disperses each paladin a sector of land to handle. 

They go out and handle the Galran territories as well as they can. As tactical and fast paced as they have all before, and it’s easier this time because with Allura’s commands, and instructions on sight, the fight is better handled, they take down their enemies as quick and as they did reaching their intended areas. It’s easy again. 

And Red feels warm in his hands, she’s guileless and blinding, just the way he's used to, and the numbing absence of emotion he felt a long ways from Black makes him not want to let go of this. Not even for a moment, he’s fine this way. 

They all make it back, but Lance has trouble, his sector isn’t completely cleared, and he spreads a panic over the comms with a need for backup as soon as possible, this enemy is massive. 

Keith is the first to go, he doesn’t waste time with an anxious Hunk hot on his trail behind him, Allura calls for them to wait, but he’s not going to take a risk. 

He and Yellow follow Blue’s trail, they meet there just in time to spy Blue taking a toppling heat of attacks onto it’s plated skin as she falls and Keith’s mouth splits open with a yell over the comms. 

They handle it, sparks of gunfire beats the air a withered mess. It’s Hunk playing defense and taking the heavier hits. While Keith manages to keep Blue out of harm's way and evens out the score before Pidge and Allura shows up in the nick of time to dispel the rest.

Keith has never been this tired after a battle like this. The stress building up in waves when they walk out of their lions and he’s throwing a storm at Lance, spitting out fire while Hunk retaliates back with Lance in his arms. The boy can barely stand and for some reason that seems to set Keith ablaze in ire. He wants to kill something. Allura thinks the injuries are not too bad, but some time could be invested in giving Lance treatment.

The Algeanians, in light of happy gratuitous news becoming of the fallen Galrans suggest a different option to take. In a sacred fountain near the outskirts of their home, its water heals most wounds and has been used to keep those injured and unwell in danger alive for much longer having its essence be stored into the body that enters it. 

They suggest for Lance’s case, as a token of gratitude for their battles. They all can’t say no, as experience has shown to them time and time again, that appreciating the efforts of others goes a long way to allow than none at all. Allura sees no problem with it, however much the look in her eyes says the gesture is not needed.

They follow behind and Keith keeps his eyes on Lance the entire time he’s carried by Hunk into the graveled maw of a cavern. It’s spacey and contempt, the way the patterns of the wall move and sway with the water below and the fountain is carved out of a stone and crystal with the face and shape of a nymph like creature the Algeanians call Mavinia. Lance is dipped in careful and tucked in a cloth. The others stand by and watch. Keith isn’t so careful, he’s nervous and jittery, intaking the way Lance’s body dips in shades of green and blues, submerged completely then gone with the depths. 

The Algeanians hum something under the deepen airs of their breaths, linked hands and all harmonious song to ails the walls around them a noise of tranquility, that puts something at ease for Keith. Keeps him breathing, because he wasn’t aware of the fact that his breath was lost or that he was holding it at all during the ceremony. It’ll be several minutes of staring at the floor, several seconds to get his mind away from the worry because he is worried about this, and he’s worried for himself, and he’s worried for his future, as he is worried about the rest of this team and the faces of those they have to defend for as the dawning of realization about their problems all come to light. 

And he’s worried about Lance, and he’s worried that throughout that entire minute-maybe one, maybe two more minutes of this harmonious hymm happening before him, he thinks that it’s been a second or two too long and Lance hasn’t recovered yet, he hasn’t pulled himself to the surface. 

“ How long will this go on for?” He asks to nobody in particular, everybody feels like they’re standing but a mile away from him.But Hunk is standing near him just as close, he hears. “ I don’t know.” Keith shifts from foot to foot, awkward. This feels like it’s taking too long. 

And it’s making him think about things, makes him think about that talk he and Lance had some time ago after they got home without Shiro, makes him think about the talk they had in the hallway about Hunk leaving, and about other things they’ve never discussed in front of the others. They had a courtesy for all non involved parties concerning themselves, it was better that way. He feels a soft spark of something light up faintly in his chest, it hurts and he clutches at the armor, almost scratching over his signia. 

But then Lance emerges. Coughing and gagging on green juice as it spills from the tops of his head to the bottom of his bruised lips. His hands come up over himself and he looks like he’s having a hard time breathing at first. The water laps around him, swishing in panic tremors before settling down from his arrival.

The room lights with a cheer, it was a successful recovery, the Algeanians all chime in virtuous language over the rise of the Blue paladin, as Lance wheezes every piece of himself out his nose and mouth. His body shivering in the mass of sea surrounding him, almost faint like he'll topple over again at any moment. Keith doesn’t wait. 

He’s the first one to dodge out of the way of the others, he's the first one jumping feet first into the splashing waters, it’s cool under his hands and his legs dragged for a second too slow as he draws closer to Lance in minutes. Lance’s body feels cold, icy as the spots on his skin pulse with green and he’s withholding his gaze with the floor of the fountain. He doesn’t even say anything when Keith is pulling him in by the arms and tugging him by waist at his side out of the water. Doesn’t pull away or protest, and Keith’s actually glad about it,albeit expecting something. 

The others help them both, Lance is speechless, all he can managed are a few strangled words that sound nothing like words at all but gibberish, his nose unclogs with a sludge of blue that drips off of him dangerously. If Keith didn’t know any better, he would have thought the fountain did more harm than good and would have questioned the alarming message of doubt in his head. But Allura notes that it’s common for this to happen, Lance should be fine in a couple of hours. She had asked ahead and they informed her greatly, so Keith shoves any and all suspicion down his throat and back in his gut with biting lips, trying to carefully get Lance outside. 

It take a moment for their eyes to adjust to the faint sun’s rays. The dragging of their feet spill out and stumble over the softened plain and Hunk is easily pushing some of Lance’s weight into him as they go, they don’t stop walking until Lance guts out a word, they don’t stop until Lance is pushing his hand over the side of Keith and pushing on Hunk’s for them to stop and let him rest. 

He’s breathing uneasy when they let go, Keith wonders whether or not he should still help in some way. “ Are you okay?”

Lance doesn’t speak. Just cracks a smile that's loose and briny with the fountain’s sea. 

Keith figures it out right away and relaxes. 

\--------------------------------------------------------------

They don’t leave the planet until Allura has finished with her talks. She’s busy mending alliances with the people, and they shower her in kindness and with promise of help against future invasions. The battle isn’t completely won here. 

Pidge has made a friend, a young Algeanian who’s found interest in the younger paladin through her search in the sector she was assigned to. Pidge spends time with her, and Keith spends time with Hunk while Lance shakes off the stupor of gloop he’s been submerged in hours ago from the cavern. 

They’re sitting by the edge of a cliff, a hill as cold near the surface as the chill of water in the cave had been when Keith first stepped outside. Mediating in his thoughts, Hunk watches and muses with Lance, he’s over the touch of somber aftercare resonating with a sense of glow to him that shines a little too bright in the light, looks a little too odd over the curves of his suit and waist, and something about it all looks to be too surreal to be anything else to Keith, who says nothing but watches. 

“ That was not fun.” Lance says, shaking off the goop, the slivers of it placate several feet away from him in dots on the floor. 

“ Did you drown?” Hunks asks, the questions hangs prevalent to his features, all thick eyebrows risen with his arms crossed, Keith’s feel the heavy weight of their lungs raise and slow at an even pace beside him. It’s comforting, almost like he wants to lean into it, but refrains from doing so. 

“ I think..? I don’t really know, everything felt super hazy when I woke up and I didn’t really know where I was.” He explains in short. The latter of it being how it felt like his lungs were clogging up with sludge, how he couldn’t seem to move even with the cloth removed in a short panic from the realization of his current quandary. The way it’s described to Hunk and Keith, makes them frown and Keith itches with a form of suspicion following the trail down his gut. 

He doesn’t want to be doubtful of the fact that Lance almost--could have--drowned in a not so deep fountain , but then again, he has no way to prove anything that he wasn’t there to spectate just beyond the edging shoreline of it. 

“ It had to be scary, we almost thought you wouldn’t have come up for a second. It took us over six minutes..” 

“ That doesn’t seem like such a long time..” Lance bemoans, his helmet is wet, and full of that same green gloop they’ve just had all over themselves, he frowns at it distastefully. “ God this stuff is everywhere.”

And Keith wants to say, It was a long time, and he wants to say-he was worried, and he wants to say- I was this close to jumping into the water myself and grabbing you out had you not come up in at least five seconds after you did. But his mouth stays closed for the better half of a minute. Hunk’s voice fills up the silence for them and Lance whines with colorful words on how the gloop has soiled about ninety-percent of his hair, and it’s gonna be one of those days where he’ll have to spend three hours in the shower just to get this all off. 

It's a joke, not a good one, because Lance pleads adamantly serious about it, and Hunk can only ease into it with several nods of sentiment. Keith bends the silence around him like a prophylactic shield. 

“ Did you worry?”

It takes a beat of a second for Keith to realize that question was directed at him, looking up to find Lance making eyes at him. It’s seconds of mild uneasy panic because he knows he didn't say anything, and the linked minds only works when they’re inside the protective engaging shields of their lion’s cores so that can’t be it either. There’s no way he’s reading into his mind, his thoughts are closeted, almost like he is.

Lance presses forward, If the expression on his face is anything to go by, it’s that he’s smoothly running along that teasing manner of raillery nature Keith hates to settle time with. But he’s gotten used to it, he’s gotten used to Lance and his ways. A year and a half will do that to you. He squints. “ What makes you think I did?”

“ You ran to come and get me out of the water.” Lance says it, like he knows better, like he knows Keith, and can figure out things and understand them, and work them up, and bring them down, and it’s all so very surreal all over again for Keith. As he bites his lip, resettling his gaze to the floor near the cliff. A part of him wants to take a stab at running off it and taking a leap of faith. 

“ You were to the first one to come running into the water, I saw you out of the corner of my eyes. It was like you were waiting for me to come back, so I asked. Never knew you had it out for me like that~” 

Scratch that, maybe he should push Lance off instead. 

“ Well to be fair, everyone was kinda worried.” Hunk spits out, being a saving grace once again for Keith. “ We kinda had to take a back seat while the Algeanians did their work. I for one thought that you were taking a little too long for a leg and chest injury given how you weren’t scarred up too much, but I guess the process was a slow one.” 

Lance makes a face, Keith doesn’t scrutinizes it this time, his eyes are busy with the murky waves pushing against the rocky edges of the cliff’s width surrounding them. It’s mesmerizing the way the water keep climbing and climbing like it’ll pounce out and linger in a spray over the top. Somehow this is more calming than whatever else he had in mind.

“ Well I’m alive, and we’re okay, and we’re still doing this.” Lance pipes up, when he’s less near them and more towards the edge for the cliff. He looks off into the distance where the light streams of the sun are subtle but distinctly distant from here. The light sticks to him, and Keith bring his eyes up to the way the shadow of Lance grows thinner behind him. 

_We’re okay. So you say.  
But are we really?_

“I guess.. But I’m a little worried for this team” Hunk mutters under the heat of his breath, Keith seems to be only one that hears it, but Lance has good ears. His head turns and tilts back slightly. “ Like what are we going to do now? We’re down one and fighting separately doesn’t seem like an idea that’ll last very long. If we’re not careful, someone else could get hurt. I don’t want us to fail.” 

Keith pulls off from their shoulders, “ We won’t.” 

Hunk looks down, almost like he’s just seen Keith's arrival, but his face doesn’t falter shyly of the worry.” You say that now, but still, all this splitting up that we’re doing in terms of the fact that we have all five but still don’t wanna activate Voltron because we’re not sure of what to do, is a little scary when we don’t even have much of a plan yet for ourselves. We’re just going in guns and swords blazing…” 

Keith feels the acid boil hot in his throat, that statement implies the worst of his fears, the uneven ground they all stand on is fixed and matted with holes of insecurities and uncertainty and he knows it just as well as the others. They may all put on confident faces, but beneath all that there's a false sense of trepidation soiling and weaving under thick skins of faux-valor, They don’t think they can keep this up for any longer by themselves. Keith doesn’t think so-- and he’s twisting his gaze away, upset, maybe more than that. It’s not fear it’s just unease-- a scoop of nervousness.

“ We can’t keep pretending that we know what we’re doing anymore. We gotta take actions.”

“ And if we can’t in time?”

“ Then the whole universe suffers..”

It’s a skip and a beat of hiding his face in with hands too heavy, Keith is alert with the sense of discontent filtering in and out like flies in his skull. They’re trying aren’t they? Even without Shiro, even without Black for right now, because they’re still waiting-- they will wait, but not too long, and if he doesn’t want to take that chance, someone else will,and he’s seen the look in Allura’s eyes. She’s ready for that chance, she will take it, and for whatever reason that time will come, Keith would have been more than happy to give that to her.

She’d make a better leader. She’d take charge, but no it’s gotta be him….. For all the little reasons, and he’s upset, crawling with the anxiety worming into his skin all over again, and he’s cursing whatever entity in the sky it was that thought it would be funny to lead his life out here like this. Curses whatever Galran asshole chose to take Shiro, if the man hasn’t escaped and is fleeing. 

He really wants to jump off that cliff. 

“ Then we’ll make change..” Lance disputes, His back is turned from them, the serious altercation upon his face is lit with the sun’s rays. “ We’ll figure something out, we’re not gonna be stuck like this forever. We have black, which is yeah sure it’s great, and we don’t have Shiro which is… bad, but that shouldn’t stop us should it? We can still keep going even if things feels like things are at a stand still with us. We can still keep fighting even if it feels like we won’t get far. 

I know it may seem like we’ve got nothing, which you wouldn’t be wrong to some extent but.. we’re still trying aren’t we?”

And it’s like Lance is reading his mind, it’s feels like-- They know what’s going on, and they’re paying attention, and for that Keith is surprised and all at once pushing down his weary facade like it’s a sheet to his armor. They look so damn serious about it, it makes Keith ache, where can he get that? 

“ We’re trying, and that should count for something. We’re still helping people and that should count for something. We’re still gonna look out for ourselves, we’re still gonna fight this, we’re gonna find Shiro and bring him home. We’re still gonna be this team, and we’re gonna win this because we know we can, and we can do whatever we want to help out for the worlds, the people and that’s---”

“ That should all count for something?” Hunk and Keith finishes for him. Keith suppresses and recycles the words in his head while Hunk rouses it out aloud. 

Lance spins on his heels as a high wave hits the cliff and above. “ Exactly!” 

The splash and impact of the it, hits the back of his him as remnants of green sea pushing up and against armor, Lance stumbles forward and Keith can’t help but watch in slight amusement as most of what Lance had spent a hour ago wiping off placate back on himself in mild irritation and misery. The face Lance makes is what does him in, he laughs. 

“ Aw come on! I just wiped most of this off of me!”

Hunk gets up, noting their own short burst of amusement, goes and helps Lance out. “ Dude you probably shouldn't have been standing next to that cliff like that!” 

“ I didn’t think that waves rose that high!!”

Keith tempers down, against the cracks of the wall behind him, Searching the cliff, and the two friends he’s gotten to know in such a short span of time. He looks at this and thinks of what Shiro would make of this, of what they’re doing. 

_You’re trying, trying is better than nothing at all. You’re okay._

He feels somewhat better after the thought lingers. Repeats it.

_“We’re gonna be okay.”_

\---------------------------------------------------------------

When Keith gets back, he’s in the hangar with the other Lions, looking up at Black. 

She’s been here sitting here for a while, untouched and watching all around as if her eyes were a window to all that happens around her as she waits. Keith remembers the first time he found her, empty and almost dead like out on the outskirts of where they had fallen from the wormhole. He remembers finding her without Shiro, and thinking the worst as his hand scratches the surface of her muzzle. Black never responded It wasn’t as awful then as it was now, He had too much worry in himself to drown out over the pedaling fear in his heart when he realizes Shiro wasn’t present to Black and had to search around his area in order to find him. That took days but they did eventually find each other. And things were okay for the better half what felt like a month in their heads. Trying to send distress signals to others, sticking close to their lions, it was okay for a time, but they knew it wouldn’t have lasted. 

He knew it before it had happened, and then they were separated again. 

And he’s here, standing before Black tepid but better, and staring with a scrutiny bursting at seams too high to be anything but serious. This is what Shiro had asked for. 

Keith isn’t sure if he even wants to add the label of Team leader to himself. It doesn’t really sound fitting. 

“ Are you okay?” 

Keith breaks wind from his thoughts, turning his head to find Allura looking at him from the entrance way. A hand sitting over the threshold. His mouth makes a flat line. 

“ More or less.” 

She nods and steps forward, coming closer to study over the other lions surrounding them. She stops besides him, and he wants to inch away slightly as to make a berth, but refrains and pulls his gaze down from Black to the floor. 

“ You’re scared about all this aren’t you?” She says, just as quiet, her gaze had followed his to Black.

“ No”, he answers, that’s never been problem.

“ Then you’re uncertain about this, you don’t think you can take over for him. “ She turns just a bit, but doesn’t strain it for too long looking away moments after and waiting. Keith forces a cyanide response down his throat. 

Shiro had reasons for everything, they might not be the best at times, and he can be reckless with some, but for this, Keith thinks there should have been a more specific one in this case. He should have lead this to someone else. It all doesn’t really seem like it should all fall into his hands but he cannot stand here and lie to himself and say he’s scared. That’s not what ills him. 

What it is lies with thinking he’s not ready to fill the shoes, ready to push up to that same level, and take charge that same way Shiro has done many times before. He’s experienced like that; where Keith is… he’s many different things but this is definitely not one of them. He hates to admit it but the truth can’t be anymore clearer for either of them here. It makes him a little angry at the thought which is why he doesn’t like to think about it and he hasn’t for the past couple of weeks. 

“ I don’t really get it. At all.”

It’s probably because he trusts you.” Allura states, and she’s looking to him now. “ Like he trusts everyone else here in this team. He would have thought to have asked in time for this, and he has, but I can understand the cautionary response.”

“ So if he trusts everyone here, why not give it to someone who can fill it better?" He presses, lifting a hand to one of Black’s large limbs, the metal of it cool under his palms. “ Why not just give it to you?” 

She stops, a look pierces between subtle surprise and something unreadable as lips purse together then fall flat. She seems to have nothing to say at first. Keith doesn’t blame her, he’s had no way of answering that himself and he’s been contemplating several different things all at once since he’s gotten back here. 

“ I don’t know why he didn’t. Whatever reason that may be has more to do with you than anything else.” 

“ He could have picked anybody else.”

“ And yet he chose you.” 

Keith parts, he has nothing to say again,stopping himself short of the silence between them. He wants to argue against it, really he does. 

Allura sighs, the sound of it is tired and stale rebounding off his chest. He can feel his lips moues ragged, restraining from letting teeth gnaw at a chapped bottom lip. 

“ I understand that you’re worried about all this, you would must rather have Shiro back to lead than anybody else to, and I can’t say that I don’t agree with that sentiment. But we can’t keep pretending he’s the only one potential enough to take up the handle. I know I could fall into that latter, and I agree to some extent that i don’t think you fall under the category yourself, but I don’t know Shiro as well as you do and it’s seem clear to me that the two of you have history. “

Keith stands languid, he hadn’t expected that, and struggles to ask if Shiro had ever told her about their days back on Earth. Where things were not as great for a year and a half, and he spent it tangled to the ruins of an old shack with nothing but the boards and odd dreams and pictures of news clippings and red strings. He wonders if he’s ever told her about before that--which technically implies, as secret.

She doesn’t even wait for him to continue on, she’s adamantly moving herself to step back and look up at Black steadily, like she’s having a conversation with it, one Keith can’t hear, and then adds. “ Shiro didn’t pick you for no reason. I don’t doubt that, But I am worried about where this will take us if he isn’t found soon.” 

A voice in his mind adds something along the lines of--She’s right. Because in all honesty, Shiro does puts more of his trust in him than anybody else, and that has more to do with the history than of what they had years ago. To what they’ve built around each other in the years they’ve spent.

They were like brothers, easily at each other’s side, always looking out for one another, those years back then were better for him than they were just a few couple years before he had met Shiro. He doesn't deny there’s a certain set of trust between them that runs well enough past the average. 

It doesn’t stop the hesitation however 

it doesn’t stop the fear or the anger or the everything Keith has had to deal with. 

She is right though, Shiro trusts him, maybe even more than this team but he wants to doubt it verily, because in a sense he’d trust anyone else to lead. Except nobody wants it to be themselves. 

Shiro didn't pick him for no reason, but he still has his doubts. Overbearing awful silly little doubts that stick to him like hangnails on his thoughts. He can manage well enough with Red. Because with her, it was easy, they maintain well enough together without fault of trust, will, or strength.

Red is the color of his being, his valor, his talent, his will to carry on wherein nothing else matters. Red is easy to handle, Black on the other hand is not.

Which is why Keith doesn’t really understand why Shiro entrusted him to do this.

"Give me five good reasons you trust us with our future..."

Allura looks up, quirking a brow at the statement. “ Just five?” She says, then tilts her head forward with a smile breaking dimples across her cheeks. He doesn’t know what’s so funny about what he asked, and pulls a show of confusion to match the thought. 

Some of the way the confusion gnaws out at him incredulously must show, because Allura looks up again, without the laughter, the smile more soft but serious this time. She motions with a gesture in her hand towards Black. 

“ If you’re willing to listen to what I have to say, I’ll tell you a secret.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't keep pretending I'm afraid.


End file.
